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Monej'. June 6th. 1894. 



A SECURE PROTECTION FOR THE UNPROTECTED. 

nil iii1iri9i.-.1 in Ih^ i'n-K'iTHliiin of Pn.pfrlv (iffpcft-d In' 

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HALDEMAN, Gcnenl liiMciir for tie UDlteii Klniiiliiin. tT aid 18, CORSHILl, LOIU)OI,S.C, 



CONTENTS. 



THE SPLEHDID PAUPERS: a Tale of the Coming Platoeraey. 



PART I. 
WHEAT AT eiGHTEEN SHILLINGS A QUARTER. 

1. JIk, Wali.kdoff 5 

II. Laiiv JEmii 8 

III. The llrEB op Ea§ti.and 12 

IV. The llAiHCALB. Of Rkibv 15 

V. The HorNTY of Blankhhiue 18 

VI. An ErjeoDB la KNicKKitBocKERit 21 

Vri. The Houern Tow.v of Gablah '25 

Ylll. A BiBTHDAT Party at tub "Hawh.al 

Aemb" 31 

IX. Exit I.okd Bl.^dud 35 

X. The Bai>ical Campaign 38 

XT. Ah Unespb-'ted Meetino 42 

XII. Ak IsgrEST at Sloane Hall 45 

XIII. THK 1'l.lTTOlKATH' MirROBE ■19 

XIV. IlK^KATro BUT TbIOMPHANT 03 



PART II. 

THE YELLOW MAN WITH THE WHITS MONEY. 

I. A Shootiho Pabtt is the Hioblandb ... 57 

II. MBSBB8. GLOOODIi AND FaDLMANH 61 

III. A DiHNBB Pabtt at WEiTLANDu Castle 63 

IV. A Political Plot 67 

V. BtMETALLISH IN ElCXLBIB 70 

VI. The Wiles of Ladt Dobothk 7*J 

] VII. Chinafyino Chatswobtu 75 

! VIII. A GlOANTIC CONBPJBACY 79 

I IX. A Scene in Bouyerie Stbbit 81 

! X. Hoping them in S!> 

I XI. Ji.MJAna ANi> CiioLEBA 88 

XIL The Yrllow Man in Pobsbsston 90 



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iE SPLENDID PAUPERS 



• ?^ 



A TALE OF 



THE COMING PLUTOCRACY. 



BEIXG THE 



Ibtlstmas Bumbet of the IReview of IReviews^ 



1894, 



♦ 



" We are not a rich aristocracy. We are many of. us deadly poor, and all the 
poorer because tradition, society, and pride make us go on living beyond our means. 
It is not as if the aristocracy could set an example in this matter. They have been 
forced to go the pace which the nouvcaux riches set. We have to live when corn is 30J. 
a quarter as when it is 50^. ; but not only that, but to keep abreast, if not ahead, of 
the wealthy tradespeople who have come into land. The result is that we are, many 
of us, little better than splendid paupers.'*— Lady Warwick, 1S93. 



REVIEW OF REVIEWS 

Editorial Offices : Mowbray House, Norfolk Street, London, W.C. 
publlshing office: 125, fleet street, london, e.g. 



<3 ^'/-6 /. ^^ 



'■ -^ >^ ^ 5-. 0/ ^ ^^ ;N».0 COtt^ .. 



^,»' . i. 




PREFACE. 




'HE Christmas Numbers of the Review of Reviews endeavour to embody in the narrative form, 
which permits the chronicler to unite the license of fiction with the realism of fact, the most 
conspicuous events and ideas of the passing year. 

In 1892, in "From the Old Wurld to the New" I was able to describe in advance Chicago and 
the World's Fair. In 1893, th(» Liberator swindle suggested the subject for " Two and Two Make 
Four." This year, the fall in prices, the debates upon the death duties, the arrival of plutocrats 
from the United States, and the war between China and Japan, affoixl a not less obvious topic 
for "The Splendid Paupers." 

It may seem to be audacious beyond measure to attempt to weave into a Christmas Number 
such forbidding and heterogeneous topics as death duties, bimetallism, agricultural depression, and 
the war in the Orient ; but if fortune favours the brave, I may at least hope for good luck in 
my enterprise. 

For the title I owe my acknowledgments to the Countess of Warwick ; the characters, with few 
^exceptions, are borrowed from real life, and most of them I fear are but thinly disguised. 

MOWBRAY House, Temple, W.C. W. T. STEAD. 

November f 1894. 



THE SPLENDID PAUPERS: 

a THiiE OF THE comirio puutocrhcy. 

PART I.-WHEAI AT EIGHTEEN SHILLINGS A QBAKTER. 



« ^yO the Duke «ays that he will have to sell Clmts- 
3^ wwth?" sail! Sterling tr> his companion, ft brii;lit 
^^ yoiins girl who wa* liwking down from a hill near 
^ Maiiienheail ujkjo ihe ivimling Thames. 
"Sell Chatiiworth? XoU8ei>ie! Will the Queen sell 

Windsor?" sai.l «ho 

bghtly, " Oh ! " the e\- 

cOiimeil, pointing to the 

band of the river, roiinil 

which a crew of girls were 

swinging an eight-(>are<l 

boat, " is it not spleniliii ? 

Just look at that Ixial ! " 
"Yen," said Sterlinj; ; 

"they niake a pretty pic- 
ture. But they don't n<> 

the pace. Siill, thev keep 

time well, and the cox 

knows her bvisine.is. Do 

" Never have ha'l the 
chance, save in an old luh 
at se-i. But I mean to. 
rm going ill for evcry- 
thing--c very tiling. Ib it 
not perfectly lovely to 
think that no one will 
hinder me from doing 
whaterer I've a mind tn, 
any more than if I had 

" Let us sit down here 
for a few minutes," said 
Sterling, "and enjoy the 
aunsot. And you can tell 
me your plans just as well 
utting down an standing 
up. Well, if you won't, 
I will. So there, Lady -Ilnid, hy your leave." 

Whereujion Sterling stretched hininelf lazily 
■ide. His ciimi-anion looked down at him for a moment. 

" Poor thing," she said, " he's tired, and ia quite right to 
rest. But I have been doing nothing all day, and I p:efer to 
move about. And do you know," Hhc said eagerly, " I do 
believe I see Elma in that lioat. Xo other girl has quite 
such a head of hair. What luck ! Good-bye, I am off!" 
And before Sterling could rise, the girl was scamjiering down 
the hill towards the river. 

" What a madcap! " he muttered ; " sl-.e will break her neck 
some day. But that is just her way ; helter-skelter, over 
field and thnnigh dyke. ThereV nothing like a woman for 
taking a bee liue when the fit seizes her." 




"are you HUl 



[> the hill- 



Meanwhile, the object of these reflections was rapidly 
searing the botto n of the hill. The impetus of her own 
movements, accelerated by the steepness of the descent, was 
carrying her along so rapidly that she could not [lossibly 
stop herself before reaching a low hedge at the bottom of 
the hill. There was nothitig for it but to fly nt it as beat 
she could. The girl was fleet of foot and agile. She had 
no lime to tliiuk and no chance to stop. She leapt the 
hedge, clearetl it tike a 
stag, but, alas, she had 
what slags have not — the 
skirt of her dre^s caught 
on the stake in the hedge, 
and she fell heavily into 
the ditch. 

"Hulloal" shouted 
Sterling, "you've gone and 
done it now," and in a 
moment he was running 
down the bill, not knowing 
in what state of fracture 
he would find the girl on 
the other side of the hedge. 
When he reached her, she 
was sitting on the side olT 
the ditch, with her face all 
glowing with nettle stings, 
and a long scratch across- 
one cheek! She was still 
]ianting and out of breath. 
" My dear girl," said 
Steriing, "are you hurtV 
I was scared todeath when 
I saw you fall." 

"It's nothing," she said, 
between her labouring 
breaths — " nothing at all. 
Only a few nettle stings 
and a nasty scratch. I 
fell soft, you see. It's all 
that confounded dress. I 
should have cleare'! the heilge splendidly hut for it." 

Sterling found it waw as she hail said. There were no 
bones broken. She had fallen soft, the force of her fall 
being checked by the skirt, whicb caught on the fence. 
The dress had held for a second, and then had t>arte<l, 
leaving a shreil as a tniphy to the stake. He busied himself 
getting dock leave-* t. ajiply to tlie blisters made by the 
nettles, listening silently the while to Lady .Quid's uhjui^ 
gatfons. 

" It's all these liateful petticoats," she said, " dangling 
about one's heels. They don't give lis half a chance. 
This is the second li.iie they've served me this scurvy trick. 
The other time they caught on the pedal of my bicycle and 
Sung me just as I was rushing down a splendid hill, and 



The Splendid Paupers. 



sprained my wrist. They'll be the death of me some day. 
Thanks, awfidly," she added, as Sterling brought her some 
fresh cool leaves. " I'm almost better now. I wonder if 
Elma has i)as.sed." 

" We had better go home,*' said Sterling. " If you kan 
on my arm, 1 think " 

Before he had finished his sentence the girl was up and 
off towards the ri^'er. She had spied her friend's boat, and 
was running towards the river, waving her handkerchief. 
Sterlins: fulluwed slowly. "She's none the worse for her 
tumble," he said. " But if she only knew what a figure she 
cuts with that ragged skirt traihng behind her ! " 

But Lady Ji^md did not care. Her friend had seen her 
signal and had sculled to the river side. 

" Sakes alive," said Elma, with a strong American accent, 
" where have vou been, Niddie ? You look as if yuu\l 
tumbled off a haystack ; and your face is bleeding. Dear, 
dear, Niddie, you've been to the wars indeed ! " 

" Only a scratch," said the girl. " Let me come into the 
boat and wash it off. Do introduce me to your friend." 

**Lady Mnid, Mr. Glogoul— Mr. Glogoul, Lady Jinid. 
There now — ^no ceremonies — come on board." 

"Mr. Sterling," said iEnid, turning to her comjianion, 
"** you will come too, of course V This is Elma Dormer, my 
Anierican friend. You'll like each other, I'm sure. Steady, 
now ! " she added, as both stepi)ed into the boat. 

Sterling took his seat beside the young man, who was 
introduced to him as Mr. Glogoul. 

" Ilave I not seen you before ? " he said. " Both the 
name and the features seem familiar to me." 

" Guess not, sir," said the young man. " Only arrived 
from New York day before yesterday." 

"Glogoul, Glogoul — I'm sure 1 have heard that name 
i)efore," i>ersisted Stirling. 

"Rather," said the young man, "who hasn't? But it 
ivas my uncle who made it famous. I have not had my 
turn yet." 

" Oh, I remember," said Stirling. " And so you are the 
nephew of the famous professor ? Is he still prosecuting his 
researches into the mysteries of human nature ? " 

" Guess io," said the young man. " Bit of an old fogey 
though, with antiquated notions. Why, I've actually heard 
him say that he had objections to vivisect any but 
incorrigible criminals. I've been rather ashamed of him 
since that." 

There was for Sterling a strange attraction of repulsion 
about the young cynic. 

" And you," he said, " would vivisect anybody ? " 

" Of course," he replied. " Why not ? If you vivisect 
only criminals you only exi>eriment upon the abnormal. 
You might as well vivisect only geniuses or lunatics. What 
we want in our jjhysiological laboratories is the normal." 

" You, then, are a pathologist, I supix)se ? " said Sterling. 

"Oh, don't talk shop," saucily interrupted Elma, who 
was now rowing steadily uj) the stream. "Glogoul has 
been talking nothing but horrid stories of how they exjieri- 
me*it in torture. I call it torture, but he says they don't 
feel — nobody feels anything. What looks like agony is only 
reriex action. We are all automata, and every IxhIv does 
just what lie must, and no^jody's to blame. Niddie, how is 
the retlex action of the nettle rashes getting on V " 

" Much better," said Ladv .Enid. " What with the 
dock leaves and the river air I feel (piite * fit.' Is it not a 
lovely evening ? " 

As she sjx)ke she pointed to the sun which was sinking 
slowly behind the Splen<lon Woods, as if unwilling to leave 
a scene of such |>erfect loveliness. The foliage on the trees 
was just beginning to change, here and there flecking the 
green wood with gold. The steady plash of Eima's oars in 



the water and the ripple of the stream against the boat 
alone broke the silence. Now and then a cow lowed in the 
meadows or a dog barked in the farmyard. The clouds in 
the eastern sky were beginning to glow with the reflected 
glory of the setting sun, whose long rays made the silver 
Thames glow like molten gold. 

As they neared a turn in the river, they narrowly escaped 
bvnnping two eight-oared boats that were racing down 
stream. One was the boat whose girlish crew had first 
excited Lady ^Enid's attention, the other was manned by 
men. The girls were leading. 

" Look, look 1 " cried Lady ^Enid exultantly ; " who's 
going the pace now V We're leading a clear length. How 
splendid ! Don't I wish I were one of them." 

The boats swept by, the racing crews not vouchsafing 
even a glance as they i)assed. 

" A spurt," said Sterling — " plucky spurt, but doesn't 
last." 

" But they we're leading," she objected. 

" Had a start you may be sure," said Glogoul. " Women 
will always be whipiied at that kind of thing — always." 

" You're quite horrid," said Elma. " Give us a chance, a 
fair chance, and you'll see if you can hold your own." 

" My dear cousin," said the young doctor, " you are 
totally wrong. Fillies have had as fair a field as colts 
since the world began, and even with an allowance for sex 
how seldom has a filly won ariy great race ! " 

" If only," said Sterling, " men would make women an 
allowance for sex the race might be more equal. But 
unfortunately women have not a filly's chance. Because 
they are handicapped by nature, they are further handicapped 
bv man." 

" No," said Lady ^Enid, " by ourselves worst of all. Look 
at these hateful petticoats, for instance, to say nothing of 
corsets." 

" Niddie," said Elma, blushing, " how can you ? Y'ou are 
too awful for anything." 

" Why ? " said she, innocently. " I did not say anything, 
did I? Oh!" she added, laughing, "I forgot you aie 
American, and Americans have no undergarments to si)eak of."' 

" Not before gentlemen, at least," said Elma, softo voce, 
and there was again silence in the Ixmt. Far away in the 
tlistance they heard faintly the refrain of a boating song. 
The boat was nearing the Splendon Woods. Already the 
high bank was rising on their left. 

" Make haste," said Lady ^Enid ; " we must have a stroU 
in these lovely woods before dinner. There will just be time 
before sundown. I would not miss it for anything. Father 
has told us such jolly stories of the jncnic parties he useil to 
have under the fine old trees, that I always dreamed of 
coming here some day — and here we are," she said, as the 
lx)at slowed up and they prejiared to land. 

Hardly had the boat touched the bank, when a keeper 
step|)ed forward. "Out of that I"^' he shouted grufHy. 
" You've no business here." 

" But," said Sterling, " I have landed here scores of times, 
and there never has been any objection. There nuist be some 
mistake." 

" No mistake at all," replied the man. " 1 have my 
orders. Neither you nor nobiKly else nuist land here." 

Sterling i^ersisted. " My gotnl man, I am sure you are 
wronjT. 1 know the Duke verv well, and he was always 
delighted that we should land here." 

" The Duke be danmed ! " si\id the man. " What's he got 
to do with it? This isn't the Duke's anv more. It's 
Mr. Walledoff's, and Mr. Walledoft' '11 stand none of your 
blooming picnic j>arties and such flummery. So get »)ut, will 
you, or I'll give vou in charge as trespassers. S'help me, I 
Will. Here, Baby!" 



Mr. Walledoff. 



He wbiittled UK he s]<uke, and an evil-looking cur canto up 
showing )ii» Weth. 

" Oft' with you, Ju you bear, or I'll Bet the dog on you. 
CoiiI'iiuihI you ; uue would think the whole Britioh jiuhlic 
owned the property, aud not Mr. Walleiiuff," 

He gave the boat a push off with his foot as he ajvke, and 
It Xte^au to drift domi strenni. 
) " Will) ia your nuisier V " asked Gli^oul, 

'- Why,'' said the man, " Mr. Walledoff— him as bought 
the -latler Djy Oazette, yuu kuuiv," 

Wljereu|un he turned on his heel and disappeared behind 



catch a Red Indian papooee, brin^ it up a bosrding-eobool 
girl, AU gi>es well till one fine day boarding-school miss 
iliKa|)i>eHrH. In her place equaiv in a blanket, with hair 
hanging duwn back, aud face daulied with red ochro. ^he 
reverts. And that new young woman reverts. The reverBion 
to barbarism is a recoil from too straillaced civilisation. I 
wonder how long it will lant." 



theti 
here 



" The devd! " said Gloguiil. " Toc< 
"I « 



n American the Inudin 



" What you call I 
.tniit. 

" But Xatviro is Barbarisi 
aid Glugoul. 

" I lake issue with you," i 



Elnia, as she took uji her 
oar*, "that you would 
not use such dreadful 
language before ladies." 

"I beg your Mrdon," 
said Glogoul. "But you 
»ee I dou't believe there 
ia a devil So it is not 
lirofane, really. It is 
only mytholi^ical," 

After a moment's 
jisuse, SterLng said, " I 
remember now hearing 
that the Duke had sold 
Splendun to an American 
millionaire. But 1 had 
no idea that even aa 
lillio 



[ enjoyed fruiu 
immeraotial." 

"Didn't you, though?" 
«>keil Glogoul. "Then 
^■ou don't know the 
American luillioiiaire. 
It was uotr he w)]o said 
' the public be damned,' 
but that summed it all 
uj). And I guess the 
jiublicwill lie pretty con- 
i^iderably damned, ton, 
liefure our millionaires 
Lave dous witli Clieni." 

There was .silence ia 
the boat for a time. The 
mists were rising. 
Lady .lEnid began to 
feel chilly. "Put mo 
ashore," she said, " and I 

" Nonsense," said Ghna 

" What do I care," 
Tliore now: one nioii 
boat to the bank. Hlu 
gown wiiero it was ton 
the boat. 

Glogoul watched h 




I I would call Nature," said 

All civilisation Ik unnatuiHl," 

d Sterling; " but here we are at 
r way, I believe?" 

" No," said Elma, "we 
go further down the 
I'iver. But we may look 
you u|> after dinner." 

Lady .Enid and Ster- 
ling turned away from 
the river. " I hate that 
man," she said ; " he has 
the eye of a snake, anil 
iie dissects one as if you 
were dead — ughj" and 
she shuildered. 

Sterling said nolliing. 

He shared her feeling lo 

Some extent. But there 

is a great attraction in 

repulsion. 



I thr. 



, ball with 



rill run along the river bank." 
. " what a guy you will look ! " 
iho retorted, " if I can keep wann ? 
ent," and then she sjirang from the 
Btopiied for a moment to pin u(i her 
I, aud tlieu started off at a trot after 



curiously tllrongh his glasses for a 
time as if she liad been a new H]>eciiMe]i in a museum. " And 
that," ho said to himself, niusing — "tliat, I siip|wse, is wliat 
they call a ' Xew Woman ' iu the adolescent stato ; a case of 
reveision — interesting but familiar." 

"How?" said Sterling. 

" Iteversion," said Glogoul, " to barbarism. Wo are quite 
fanuliar_with it in our country. Philanthropista occasionally 



great force against a 
it rel)ound» to your hand. 
Besides, the man was a 
type, and he liked tyjss, 
e«)"ccially when they were 
the logical ultimate out- 
come of ideas. 

\\'lien they readied 
Flora Cottage they 
fiiiind dinner wailing. 
■J-he Hon. Mrs. Truddle- 
cunilie, a neighbour who 
had been invited to meet 
Lady ^{Inid, was mucli 
icaiidalised at the girl's 
apjiearance, 

" What would your 
mother think?" she ob- 
served, lialf under her 
breath, as the girl told 
the story of lier adven- 
tures. She was too ex- 
cited to notice the chilly 
censure iniiilieil by Mrs. Tiudiilecoinlie's manner. At last 
she told with much mimetic )ower the scene with the keejier 
who wamoil tlieni olT the Siilendou Woods. Then Mrs. 
Truddlecombe warmed up, " Mv dear, vou ought to have 
known better than lo try to put a foot on Mr. Walledors 
grounds. A lady aliould' uot iieellessly expose horsi'll' to 
insuit." 

"Insult! Mrs. Tniddlc.-onil« ; who was iusulleii ? It 
was rude, no doubt, and I think this Walledoff is a churl, 
but we raiinot ^•e insulted l>v such creatures, surelv." 

"Well, well. Lady .Enid.'vun may think it no insult to 
be warned ofl' as if you were trespassing, but I think olber- 

" Tell me," said Sterling, "how long has this been going 



8 



The Splendid Paupers. 



" Ever since the Duko sold Splendon. It seems in America 
they think a man can do what he likes with his own, if he 
pays for it. And this mm no sooner gc^t jwsaession of the 
place than he shut the public out altogether." 

"It must have made a great change," said Sterling. 
" When I used to come here, Splendon was one of the show 
places of the county, and every one had the use of the 
wockIs and grounds as much as the Duke liimself." 

"More," said Mrs. Truddlecombe — "much more. Why, 
we all rode and drove through the ^lark just as we do through 
the Queen's park at Windsor. Boats always 8top])ed on 
their way up and down at Splendon Woods. The Duke 
would often only come down once a year to see that all was 
in good onler. Why, the whole place is now walled round, 
and every avenue of approach guardeil as if it were the sally- 
port of a fortress." 

" What a wretch ! " cried Lady ^nid. " Do pass me some 
grapes, please. But what a sellish dog in the manger this 
Walletloflf must be." 

" Not exactly dog in the manger. Lady ^Enid, for he at 
least enjoys his seclusion. But we who live in the neigh- 
bourhood feel very sore. Why, only the other day Sir 
Edwanl Rugby, who had ridden regularly through Splendon 
for the last dozen years, was stopped at the Uxlge by 
Mr. WalledoiFs orders, and forbidden to enter. Mr. Walled- 
oflTs orders were iM)sitive, said the man, and there was 
nothing for it but to turn back." 

" Then that," said Lady ^Enid, " perhaps explains the 
meaning of that ugly wall we noticed the other day." 

" Probably," said Mrs. Trud<llecomb3, " that was his wall. 
He has excited no end of dislike in the district, and this 
has even produced a pun from the stolid Berkshire rustic. 
His name, you know, is Walledof!*, and they say he is 
Walledoff by name and Walledoft' by nature. There is no 
one who lives here but wishes the Duke back." 

" It must make a great difference to every one," said 
Mr. Sterling. " But why does he do it ? " 

"A case of reversion," said Sterling, quoting Glogoul. 
"Reversion to barbarism. Civilisation imi)lies a certain 
measure of civility, and that seems to find scant favour in 
some quarters." 

" They say," said Mrs. Truddlecombe, " that he lives in 
mortal <lread of having his boy kidnap]ied, and so he builds 
this wall round Splendon to keep him safe." 

"And then sends his boy to Eton, where he could be 
kidnapjwd any day ! Xo, that story won't hold water," said 
Sterling. " I suppose it is simply and solely the desire to 
do what you like with your own. Our peers got that 
knock e<l out of them sixty years ago. But these parvenus 
of plutocracy have the lesson still to learn." 

Lady ^Enid laughed. " Don't lcH)k so miserable," she 
said ; " come into the drawing-rm^m and have some nmsic." 

But though Sterling followed her into the drawing-rm^m, 
not even the merry music of Offenbach cleared the gloom 
from his brow. 

"It is a bad look-out for England," he said, "this 
coming of the plutocrats. And if the Duke were to sell 
Chatsworth ! " 

CHAPTER IL 

^ LADY JENID. 

1 1 1 HEN Sterling came down to breakfast next morning, 
\J^ he found Lady ^Enid's chair empty. 

" Where has my la<ly gone?" said he to his wife. 
" Oh," said Mrs. Sterling', " she left the kindest messages 
for you ; but it was necessary for her to start early, in order 
to get to Eastland before sunset." 

" What ! " exclaimed Sterling. " You do not mean to say 
that she is going to try and make it in one day ? " 



" Yes," replied his wife. " The wind is from the west and 
the roails are gooii, and she thought she could manage the 
hundred miles without difficulty. So she {>acked her things 
at five o'clock this morning, and, after breakfasting alone» 
started at half-past six, leaving a note behind to say that she 
had gone. I just caught a glimpse of her gliding down the 
avenue as I was getting up." 

It was as Mrs. Sterling had said. At the time this con- 
versation was taking i)lace. Lady JEnid was already twenty 
miles away, and had just struck the main turnpike which 
would take her within a few miles of her destination." Lady 
^Enid Belsover was the only child of Lord Belsbver, one of 
the most eminent but imix)verished of English nobles. He 
claimed his descent in direct line through Peveril of the 
Peak to the Conqueror himself. The centuries as they had 
l)assed, while they added to the antiquity of his house, had by 
no means replenished the resources of hi^ exchequer. For 
the last two or three hundred years the Belsovers had con- 
trived to keep up a tolerable apj^afance, living quietly on 
their estates at Six Elms, jealously maintaining their ancient 
traditions, preserving the family heirlooms, and from time 
to time ekeing out their inadequate rent-roll by discharging 
honourable and remunerative services to the State. The 
vicissitudes of the earlier generaticms of the Belsovers had 
struck the family less heavily than those of the last twenty 
years. They had survived civil wars, acts of attainder. 
Reform bills, and the Repeal of the Corn Law, always 
contriving to keep their heads above water ; but the fall in 
the value of agricultural produce had brought them within 
hailing distance of bankruptcy. 

Lord Belsover had seen it coming, and had done his best 
to trim his sails to the wind ; but an ancient mansion 
and its fair domain can hardly be run on the cheap, and 
after all his efforts he found it impossible to make both ends 
meet. A colonial governorshij) which he held for five years 
gave him a respite, but on returning to Six Elms at the 
expiration of his term of office he found himself con- 
frontetl by the [.roblem of how to keep up a iwsition 
in the county with practically no resources. With wheat at 
50s., or even 40s. a quarter, the rent-roll of Six Elms enabled 
its owner to live in frugal ease ; but when wheat sunk to 30s., 
and dipping still lower, touched 20s. a quarter, blank ruin 
stared him in the face. It was not merely that the margin of 
living income had disapjieared, but the reduced rent-roll did 
not even suffice to cover the running expenses of the estate. 

Lady Belsover, a silent woman, whose early ambitions had 
been somewhat cruelly oppressed by circumstances which 
rendere<l it impossible for her to find scope for the natural 
instincts of her somewhat lavish disiK)sition, was the first to 
realise the perils of the situation. She made up her mind to 
face the worst. Belsover could not be carried on for long 
unless a change came, and of a change there was no hope. 
Rentes were all dragging downwanis, every year added to the 
number of farms which were left ujion their hands to be 
cultivated at a loss. Her husband's party was out (»f of^jce, 
and even if they did return to jHjwer, she had little hope 
that another Commissionership or Governorship would 
enable them to stave off imi>ending ruin. 

To keep up Belsover even on short commons entailed an 
expenditure of a couple of thousand a year, and ex lenses 
could only be kept down to this figure by 2K)Stponing all 
repairs ard reducing to the irreducible minimum the usual 
outlay on hospitality. The Belsover estates, with a nominil 
rent-roll of £12,000 a year, showed a net receii)t of £1,lOO 
after all charges had been defrayed, and last year's drought 
had wiped out even that. Lady Behover's dowrj% which 
was securely invested in Consols, brought in £500 a year, 
and by this means they were able to scrape al(»ng with 
difficulty. But prices were still tending downwards. Tire 



Lady ^^nid. 



sanitary authorities were insisting upon the rebuilding of 
8ome of the cottages ui)on the estate; another large farm 
was about to be ihrovva upon their hands. What was to 
be done ? 

The assets of the Belsover estates were comparatively few. 
They consiatetl first of the land, which no one would buy; 
secondly, Six Elms Hall, with its heirlooms and pictures; 
thirdly, Lady Belsover's jewels; and fourthly, her daughter, 
Lady ^ilnid, who was to be presented at Court next season, 
and who, notwithstanding her lack of dower, had every 
chance of carrying off the first ])rize in the marriage market. 
The brief survey of realisable assets convinced Lady 
Belsover that there was only one course to pursue. If they 
could raise a mortgage on their estate that would enable 
them to carry on for a short time. If that failed them she 
could at least pawTi or sell her diamonds for sufficient to 
carry them over another year. As a last resort there were 
the pictures, esjiecially the great Raphael, which for two 
centuries had been the glory of their house, and for which 
they had repeatedly refused oifers which would have kei)t 
Belsover going for five or six years. By these means they 
woulil bs able to keep their heads above water until Lady 
^Enid had ma<le the match which they hoped would enable 
them to contemplate the future with composiu^e. 

Lord Belsover acquiesced in his wife's pro|X)8als. What 
else was there to be done ? The great thing was to keep 
their heads above water. Something might turn up; prices 
might rally, and meanwhile he would post]X)ne the evil day 
as long as possible, and hope for the best. Lord Belsover's 
consent his wife had taken for granted, as her custom was. 
It was with more misgivings that she approached the 
daughter, upon whose success in the marriage market 
hung the future of Belsover. Lady Belsover was too 
shrewd to broach the 8uV)ject directly to Lady ^^nid, who 
was in the first exuberance of youth, and had ri[)ened in the 
freer atmosphere of the colonies. Although the heiress of 
the Belsovers could Ixjast some of 'the bluest bkxxl of England 
in her veins. Lady JEuid had taken with a |)a8sionate 
eagerness to the free, democratic ways of the Australians, 
who had surrounded her when she entereiil her teens, and 
whose ways of kn^king at things she had im]>erceptibly 
adopted as her own. W^hen she returned to the Old Country 
she found great difficulty in reducing her free and easy 
manners to the nn»re conventional standard of Eng ish 
society. She chafed against its restraints, and was never so 
happy as when, in the comiwrative seclusion of Belsover 
Park, she could give free scojie to her natural energy. 

" Oh, ^Enid, -tEnid," her mother would often exclaim in 
despair, when her daughter came in with streaming hair 
and sunburnt face from a wild ride across country, " you 
ought to hav^e been born a boy I " 

** Don't say that," ^Enid once answereil petulantly. " I 
wish to heaven I had been I I should have had some 
chance then ! It was not my fault that I was bom a girl. 
I never should have been if the choice had been left to me." 

Her mother sighed, but deemed it wiser not to argue with 
the headstrong girl, feeling confident that the atmosphere of 
society and the pressure of circumstances would reduce her 
to docility. Nor was there absent a certain amount of 
calculation in Lady Belsover's acquiescence in her daughter's 
escapades. The one thing necessary was that Lady ^Enid 
should marry, and marry well, which of course meant marry 
wealth. 

"Times are changing," thought Lady Belsover. "A 
girl such as ^Enid would have had no chance thirty 
years ago. But who knows, what with the talk of the 
* New Woman ' on the one hand, and the chance which 
mere originality and notoriety give to a girl, ^Enid may 
perhaps be instinctively following the shortest cut to the 



indisiiensable goaL Certainly she will have a better chance 
by following her own bent than if I were to attempt to reduce 
her to the regulation pattern." 

So it came to |)a88, partly from necessity, partly from cal- 
culation, that Lady JEnid was allowed to go her own sweet 
way. With this result, that at the age of nineteen she was^ 
cycling her solitary way across country from Berkshire to 
Blankshire, unattended by groom or chaperon, on her way 
to her uncle's. 

She lunched at the " Royal George." There was only 
one other guest at the hotel, a man of about five-and- 
twenty, a cyclist like herself. He seemed indisposed to 
conversation, and beyond a few commonplaces about the roads 
and the wind the meal passed in silence. When it was- 
over he went out into the yard, leaving behind him the 
pa^>er which he had been reading when she entered. She 
to<.)k it uj) and glanced at it It was the Badical Bughhlast^ 
Lady ^Euid looked at it with some curiosity, and her eye 
wandering over the columns was attracted by a double- 
leaded article in which the name of her uncle appeared 
somewhat conspicuously. Hitherto, partly owing to her 
absence from the country, and also to the disinclination ot" 
a girl to concern herself with affairs in which she is not 
permitted to take any responsible part. Lady iEnid had 
bestowed so little attention upon poHtics as hanlly to know 
the issues on which they were split. The article in the 
Buf/^ebfast proclaimed the oiMjning of a campaign against the 
Duko of Eastland, whom she vaguely saw was regarded as- 
a kind of tyrant-incubus ui>on the district in which he lived. 
The Radical candidate, one Edmund Wilkes, was on his way 
to carry the fiery cross through the country-side where the 
Duke's influence had hitherto been supreme. She had read 
so far when she was interrupted by the return of her com- 
panion at lunch. 

"I l)eg your i)ardon," he said. "I am afraid my tyre is- 
punctured. Have you a repairing outfit?" 

" Certainlv," sai<l Ladv ^Enid. 

As Lady ^Enid was getting the repairing mateiials from her 
saddle-bag he was removing the tyre and proceeding to 
immerse the tubs in a tub of water which was standing in 
the inn yard. There was no difficulty in locating the 
jmncture, for a stream of bubbles rose to the surface of the 
water, indicating plainly enough the source of the mischief. 
A thorn piercing the outside tyre had punctured the air-tube. 
But for his meeting with Lady ^nid he would have beerk 
practically crippled. As it was, a small patch was 80<.)u 
placed over the hole, the tube replaced and inflated, the 
wheel refixed, and the cycle was ready to start. 

" By-the-bye," he said, " could you tell me how far it is to 
Rigby?" 

" About sixtv miles, I think." 

" Good roads^y " 

" Very, but rather hilly ; at least, there is one stiff hill, 
but you will have no difficulty in finding the road." 

" Good-bye," he said, " and thank you ! " 

Before she had time to reply he was rapidly cycling down 
the road. "I am going the same way," she thought to 
herself, " but I am glad he has got the start, as there will be 
no temptation to racing now." 

Thereupon she looked to her tyres, and leisurely pedal le(\ 
along the northern road. 

The day was warm and the sun high. For a long time 
she pedalled along steadily, and after toiling up a long hill 
she could not resist a sigh of delight as she saw a steep incline 
stretching before her. It was easy at first, but seemed to 
become steeper as it curved to the right. She could only 
infer that the descent was rapid, for the road seemed to reach 
the valley by large curves. Lady iEnid was, however, too hot 
and dusty to dream of losing the chance of a splendid run 



The Splendid Paupers. 



<lown hill, in ainto of all tli« curves in CliriMteDdoui. She 
]iut up her feet and glided duwii the bill. As every cycliut 
knows, there is nothing so e\hilaraling an n spleudid run 
<lo«-D hill on a first-class niachine. The speed, cantinuajly 
increasing without efturt, comes nenrest Co the sensation uf 
flying, while a sanss of danger is aufficienlly present to give 
a fiisi'ination to the descent. Lady .^llnid rude the first 
atrip of road with perfect ease, but on taking the curve she 
becmiie aware that it waj rougher riding than slie liad 
bargained for. Disdaining, however, tu use the brakei slie 
stwept on, and, with continually increasing 8))eed, ruuuded 
ani'lher curve, when to her horror she saw, standing in front 
of her, waving both arms and shouting vigorouBly, her late 
companion at tunch. Immediately beliind him the road 
turned sharply to the left, and it was evident that there was 
soiue ubAtruciion 
M'hich lad him 
to siaiid where 
lie did. 

This flashed 



the little sense he ha<l left. However, he was soon suf- 
ficiently recovereil to sit ii)i. 

" Now," said she, iier wrath suddenly returning as she 
saw he liad recovered, " will you tell me why you s]iilled me 
like thatV 

" Look," he said ; " if I had not 8top[>ed you, you would 
have charged right into a flock of aheeii which are coniing 
u]) the hill. 1 waa coming down the hill with my brake on, 
aud Haw theiu a sufficient distance in advance to get otf 
iu time. I had caught a glimpse of you Sying behind, and 
(lerceived in a moment that it was a case of stopping you 
or of letting you run headlong into the flock of Eheej), to tlie 
ruin of your machine, aud i-ossibly to the loss cf your lifj. 
ISu I did my beat tu stop j'ou in linie." 

Juiit at this nionient the leading sUeeji of the flock could 



nd i 



her 



brake, but the 



checked in a 
few yards; She 
hud a bewilder- 
ing sense of 
coming smash, 
and then ahe was 
upon the i 



She 



irved 




slight iy to' 

eide in order to 

clear him ; she 

was suddenly 

stopped, and her 

machine went 

living into the 

iieilge on the 

side of the road, 

\vhile she was 

grasi>eii round 

the waist by the 

■strong right arm j^ stroso arm. 

•of her com- 

lianion, and fell heavily into the middle of the njad. 

Fortunately beyond a severe shaking she was not hurt, 
aud apeeilily scrambled to her feet. Her first impulse was 
<me of blazing indignation. She was on the |)iiint of crying, 
■" What the miachief did you do that for?" when nhe saw 
that he had not ri^en, but was still lying on the road ap|ia- 
rently uucoiisciiius. Her wrath vaninhed in a moment, and 
vhe knelt down to see what was the matter. The young 
ntan wan lying on his aide, breathing heavily. Slie turniiil 
him over, and going to the side of the niail ()ip|ie>l her 
handkerchief into a jmol of water at the bottom of a dilcb, 
and returning washed the dust olThis face. The cooliiu.-iS of 
(he water revivtnl him, and he oi>eiied his cyus. 

"Are you hurt?" she a^ikeii. 

He moved uneasily and )>ut hia hand u|»n liis chest. 
Then she saw that in stopping her ihe bandle-har had struck 
iiiin on (he ciiest with such force as to knock tiie breath out 
<tf Ills body, aud aa he fell the shock had deprived him of 



roadway. 

Up to this 
neither of 
lem had looked 
t the machine, 
■hich was lyii^ 

loubled-up c 

aide of the road- 
way. Supixjrir 

iiig her 
liauion on her 
arm. Lady Mini 
ieil him to the 



.- ^ 



7^^ 






ichinc. 



It 



ch less 

tliAii ap]ieareii at first. It required a gunl deal of troulJe, 
hi>wever, to straighten the brake, the lamp was smashed 
lieyond repair, and the handie-bar was soon put back to 
its pni])er jwsition. As for her com]ianion, he seemed to 
have recovered with the esceplion of a slight stiffness iu 
one leg. After a while they mounted and rode slowly down 
the iitll. After riding thus for about liulf-au-hour he l>cgau 
to fall behind. 

" What Ih the matter?"" she said. 

" I am afraid lov right leg is liiirl. I liavc been work- 
ing otily with my left leg for some time." 

Shu stop|ic<l until he came up to her, niid whs ]:aiiieil to 
p«c the weariiil usiiression "niiiiiface. It was the li^^t time 
she Iiad really loiikeil at him. He was iii>t iii'>re il:nu tive- 
aiid-ti»'euty, with yeUinv-bniwit hair slightly curloh his 
feature* indicatM nn alniiist rude slrcngih; the whole 
figure waa full of the vigour of the athlete accosiomed to the 
ujis and downs and the rough aud tumble of lifu. 




. AMI HE orE>i:n 



12 



The Splendid Paupers. 



" I am 80 sorry," she said. ** Can I help you ? " 

" I don't see very well how, ; but 1 do not know 

your name," he said. 

" My name is Belsover — *Enid Belsover," she said simply. 

" Well, Miss Belsover, I do not see very well what you can 
do for me, excepting to leave me to jog along as best 1 can, 
until I come to a cart or something else that will give me a 
lift." 

"Nonsense," said MM. " I am not going to leave you 
in distress, esj^cially as the injury was received in endeavoui- 
ing to save me." 

" Bat," said he, " what can you do ? " 

Lady ^Enid hesitated. The man was a stranger, hut 

after all he was cripple<l, and it was she who had done it, 

' and the least she could do was to lend him a hand, so she 

said, "Do? — why I will give you a tow. You don't mind 

; taking my hand, do you ? " 

He blushed, the blush showing red against the jmllor of 
his skin. " I cannot think of it. You have enough to do 
without thinking of me." 

" Oh," said Lady JEuid, laughing. " There is no one so 
proud as a man. If I had been lamed you would have 
given me a hand, and seeing that it is you who are lamed, 
why should 1 not do the same ? Believe me," she added 
mockingly, " this is no disparagement to the suj^eriority of 
your sex. *A11 rights reserved,' and take it * without 
prejudice,' as the lawyers say." 

Thereupon, seeing that the sun was setting «ind that he 
had not much chance of getting on, he accepted her offer, 
and grasped her extended hand. They started off again 
with fresh heart. He was sad, and she was rather tired, 
and there was not much conversation as the two i^alled 
along side by side, till at last, at a turn of the road, she gave 
a sigh of relief as she saw the towers of Eastland Castle in 
the distance. 

" Oh, there is Eastland. I am almost at liome now." 

"Eastland," said her companion — "are you going to 
Eastland ? " 

"Certainly," she replied. "I forgot you were going to 
Rigby, which is nearly five miles further on ; but when we 
get to Eastland it will be all right; w-e will get you a 
carriage and send you to your destination." 

"Excuse me," said he rather coldly, "I cannot go to 
Eastland, neither can I accept a carriage from the Duke." 

Lady ^nid looked at him in blank amazement; then 
suddenly what she had read in the Radical Bmihhlast came 
to her memory, and she said, " Excuse me, but is not your 
name Mr. Wilkes ? " 

" That is my name," said he shortly — " Edmund Wilkes, 
at your service." 

Whereuixm Lady ^Enid burst into a merry laugh. 
" What a joke," she said — " what a screaming joke ! " and 
she laugheil more heartily than ever. 

" Excuse me," said he, rather tartly, " I do not see where 
the amusement comes in." 

Lady ^nid stoppetl laughing and said, "I beg your 
pardon, and I quite understand why you object to go to 
Ecistland. But for all that common humanity compels me 
to insist that you shall at least permit me to provide for 
your conveyance to Rigby. Come now," she said imperiously, 
" it is the least I can do. If you have saved my life, why 
should I not show my gratitude by what is the country 
equivalent to paying your cab fare ? No, not a word ; that 
is settled." 

Quickening her pace slightly, she rode up to the lodge 
gates. 

" I 'suppose, Mr. Wilkes," she said, " you will prefer to 
remain here until I come with the carriage. But don't be 
afraid ; no one will know who you are or anything about 



you, and I will drive you over myself." Thereupon she 
rode down the carriage-<lrive to the cattle at a rate which 
would lead no one to suspect that she was completing her 
hundredth mile. 

Instead of going to the hall, she rode straiglit to the stable- 
yard. 

"John," she said to the groom who took her bicycle, 
" get out the ix)ny carriage at once." 

The groom, who evidently was familiar with the impetuous 
girl, answered, " Certainly, my lady." 

" I cannot wait a moment," ^nid said. " Let me have 
the carriage at once, and don't tell any one I have arrived, 
until I come back." 

In a few minutes the carriage was ready, and jumping in 
she rattled down the avenue as fast as she had come up. 
But when she reached the lodge gates Mr. Wi.kes had dis- 
appeared. 

" Dear me — how tiresome ! What idiots men are, to be 
sure ! " and whipping the jwny she drove off in the direction 
of Rigby, after the departetl cyclist. She had not far to go. 
About half a mile down the road she came upon Wilkes 
seated u^wn a stone-heai) ruefully contemplating his 
machine. 

"C<^)me, sir," she said, "you ought to have had more 
sense." 

Wilkes was evidently suffering; he raised himself with 
diflficulty and needed to be helped, half lifted, into the 
carriage. Lady ^Enid then placed the bicycle on the front 
seat and started off for Rigby. Wilkes was chagrined and 
mortified. He loathed to accept this favour from any one at 
the castle ; while Lady ^Enid, piqued at his refusal even 
to allow her to acknowledge her indebtedness for his kindness, 
was too human not to feel a little exultation over his dis- 
comfiture. They drove on in silence in the gloaming until 
they reache<l the outskirts of Rigby. Rigby w^as a manu- 
facturing town which stood on the borders of the Duke's 
estates. 

" I will spare your feelings, Mr. Wilke-^," ^nid said, " by 
not taking you any further. We will stop at the nearest 
cab-stand. It would never do for you to drive up to the 
'Radical Arms' in the Duke of Eastland's carriage." 

Wilkes' eyes flashed fire. He bit his lips, but said nothing. 

" I beg your pardon," said Lady ^nid ; " I should not 
have said that. Forgive me, Mr. Wilkes, and thank you 
for all you have done for me to-day." 

Angry though he was, there was something about the 
girl's face and demeanour which softened his ire. " GockI- 
bye, Miss Belsover," said he ; " you have been very kind." 
Another moment and he was alone, and Lady ^nid was 
driving rapidly back to the castle. 



CHAPTER IIL 



THE DUKE OF EASTLAND. 




'HE dres8ing-b?ll was just ringing when Lady ^Eaid 
threw the reins to the servant and ran up the steps 
into the hall. 

"Aunty! where is aunty?" she shouted, and in 
another moment she rushed up to the DuchesH of Eastland, 
who, hearing her voice, came forward to meet her. 

"Oh, aunty, aunty, dear!" cried the girl, throwing her 
arms round her neck and kissing her, "I am so glad to 
see vou." 

" Where has my hanim-scarum, fliliberty-gibliet come 
from now?" said the Duchess, looking down upon her 
t?nderly. " We were afraid that you had had an accident. 
You know this habit of young girls riding across country all 
alone is one which I am too old to appreciate. But come 



The Duke of Eastland, 



13 



my dear, we have not too much time, and you can tell me 
all your adventures at the dinner-table.*' 

But when Lady iEnid got into her room she began to 
consider. The Duchess's words had roused a train of reflec- 
tion. If she were to tell the story of her accident, she 
would never be allowed to ride alone while she was at East- 
land ; and as she intended to remain for a good while, she 
did not relish such a restriction of her liberty. And, besides, 
the more she thought of it the more clearly she came to the 
conclusion that it would never do to confess her adventure 
with Mr. Wilkes ; it might embarrass the Duke as much as it 
had embarrassed Mr. Wilkes. Besides, she had promised that 
no one should know the service she had rendered him. So 
on the whole Lady iEnid decided, before she had put the 
last touches to her simple toilet, that she had much better 
draw a discreet veil over the incidents connected with her 
ail venture. 

Fortune favoured this resolve, for when she descended to 
the drawing-room she found the whole place one hubbub of 
conversation concerning the approaching election. The 
Conservative candidate, with his chief supporters, was 
dining at the castle that night. In the hubbub of electoral 
discussion, in which the ladies freely joined, Lady ^E.iid 
found no difficulty in keeping her adventures to herself. 

In the eyes of the Duke of Eistland Lady ^Enid was a 
mere child whom he had never taken seriously, and who to 
tell the truth had hardly taken herself seriously even now. 
She was the favourite of the Duke's eldest daughter, Lady 
Muriel, a slight fair girl of seventeen, whose features showed 
a budding beauty which in a few years would develop into 
the glory of perfected womanhooil. The Duke, an honest 
|>ainstakiug peer, had the overlordship of a great stretch of 
the Eastern Countien, alike by tradition and inlieritance. 
Before the Reform Bill the Duk-js of Eastland had sent their 
nominees to Parliament for all the lK)roughs within fifty 
miles of Eastland Castle. Since the Reform Act the East- 
land interest had remained supreme in three counties. 
After the emancipation of the county householder the East- 
lands had lost two of the county divisions in which hitherto 
their interest had bsen in the ascendant. But the county 
division in which Eastland Castle itself stood was regarded 
as impregnable both by friend and foe. 

Although by a fiction of the constitution it was supposed 
that the Duke took no part in elections, it was perfectly well 
known in the division that he was in deed and all but in 
name the Great Elector. The Conservative Association, 
which had its headquarters in the neighbouring town of 
Rigby, and which was conventionally understood to manage 
elections in the Conservative interest, was merely the veil 
behind which the Duke exercised his jwwer. Everything 
was managed in strict accordance with the requirements 
of the constitution, but the moment you pierced the veil it 
was his Grace here, his Grace there, and his Grace at every 
comer. The cost of registration, for instance, was met by 
the Conservative Constitutional Association, but no one 
knew better than the treasurer of that association that but 
for the funds supplied by the Castle the association would 
be in "Queer Street." The choice of the candidate was 
ostentatiously left to the decision of the executive of the 
Constitutional Association, but the boldest member of that 
executive would never have dreamed of starting any candi- 
dite who had not previously secured the imprimatur of 
the Duke. Yet no o le could truthfully allege that the Duke 
used his power in any illegal or unconstitutional fashion. 

His was the oldest family in the division. If the county 
had to select by plebiscite one man who best knew the needs 
of the country-side, and who was personally most trusted by 
rich and poor, the Duke's name would have issued from the 
ballot-box without a rivaL Neaidy one-half of the electors 



in the division were either living on his property or earning 
their daily bread by the tillage of his lands. In every good 
work the Duke was foremost in his county, nor did he con- 
sider go(Ki works in too narrow or skimpy a spirit. His 
pack of foxhounds was one of the best in the Eastern 
Counties. He subscribed alike to church and chapel. The 
Duchess's balls were conspicuous as the meeting-pkce of all 
sorts and conditions of residents in the county of Blankshire, 
and Eastland Castle was the centre from which every kind 
of philanthropic or social reformer found it easiest to reach ! 
the uttermost comers of the county. It was therefore only] 
natural that a magnate with a traditional position confirmed 
and established by his i)ersonal merits, entrenched behind 
enormous wealth, and served by a multitude of willing and 
devoted vassals, should be able to hold very cheap all 
attempts to assail his influence in his own county. 

The Dukes of Eastland down to the repeal of the Cora 
Laws had been Whigs, but they had never been able to see 
the possibility of maintaining the landed interest unless it 
were buttreised by a Com Law; and when England veered 
round to free trade, -the Dukes of Eastland went over bag 
and baggage to the oi)posite camp. That they carried their, 
county with them goes without saying, and from that time 
downwards the county of Blankshire had been one of the 
strongholds of Conservative reaction upon which Lord Derby 
and Lord Beaconsfield, no less than Lord Salisbury, had 
confidently relietl to stem the rising tide of Radicalism. 

The present Duke succeeded his father shortly before 
1880. He had been susi)ected of Whig proclivities, but they 
were si^eedily checked by the development of the Irish 
question, and among the 400 peers who threw out the Home 
Rule Bill, there was none who gave his vote with a heartier 
conviction than the Duke of Eastland. All the same his 
Grace was by no means easy in his mind. 

" We are too strong," he kept saying, " we are too strong 
— 400 to 40 is unnatural. Had we a majority of two to one 
it would have been another matter, but ten to one is too 
much." 

The Duke, however, was too reserved and reticent to talk 
alxnit his own misgivings. He had travelled much and had 
seen the evolution of democracy in many lands. He was 
l>ainfully conscious of the rancorous spirit of social hatred 
that prevailed in certain quarters of the French nation 
against the nohlessCf and he recognised the fall significance 
of the fact, that in no English-speaking country among all 
those which have been peopled from our shores has a single 
attempt been made to establish an hereditary aristocracy, to 
say nothing of an hereditary Chamber. Proud and sensitive 
as he was, he disdained to reply to the accusations which 
formed the stock-in-trade of the agitators in the press and 
on the platform who habitually assailed his family and his 
administration. Sometimes, when too flagrant a lie was 
published, his agent would appeal to him to refute it. He 
always refused. " These fellows must say something," he 
would reply. "If you refute one lie they will invent 
another. You had better let them stick to their old stock- 
in-trade. It makes no difference in the long mn what they 
say." 

In all county matters he was an ideal public servant. No 
one was more constant in his attendance at Quarter Sessions 
than he, and when they were superseded by the County 
Council he was at once elected chairman, and took his place 
with his titular and semi-feudal authonty consecrated by 
the votes of the householder-democracy. But although he 
did his duty faithfully and well to the best of his power 
and ability, he was penetrated with the conviction that the 
end of the existing order was drawing near. How it would 
come he did not know, but he was convinced that the old 
landed interest of England was going under. He was 



H 



The Splendid Paupers. 



one of the last of his race, standing guard over a fortress 
which was on the point of capitulating. 

" We might have lasted," he would say to the Duchess, 
who exhorted him to take a brighter view of things — " we 
might have lasted for another century yet if we had had to 
do with dem(.x;racy alone. We could have weathered the 
storms of the Reform Bills, hut we cannot stand up against 
the consequences of Free Trade, and largely," he would 
Bometimes add, "we are falling by our own fault. An 
absentee aristocracy is as a tree girdled for the axe of the 
revolutionist. How manv of us refused to lead when our 
people were clamouring to be led, and now how few of us 
have the means, even if we had the opportunity, to take our 
rightful place at the head of our counties! When wheat 
was quoted at 20s. a quarter, it registered our doom. No 
power on earth can stand up against that. We are undone ; 
our order has no longer an economic foundation ; we are like 
men in charge of a sinking shiiD — we can at least stand to 
our posts, but the hole yawns in our timbers, and the vessel 
is steadily sinking before our eyes.** 

It may be imagined therefore that the Duke was not in 
very good spirits when he welcomed the candidate and the 
officials of the Conservative Association on the eve of what 
promised to be the first serious attempt to deprive Eastland 
of the prerogative which it had exercised for centuries. 

Lady ^Enid understood little of the buzz of talk that 
went on around her at the table, but she vaguely understood 
that these horrid Radicals were going to bring out a candi- 
date in opposition to the Duke, and that all present were 
determined they would give him feuch a lesson, that he 
would not show his face in Blankshire in a hurry again. 
Lady ^Enid was consequently very^lad when the ladies rose 
and retired to the* drawing-room, leaving the gentlemen to 
talk over their wine imdisturbed by the presence of the 
more frivolous sex* In the drawing-room, however, Lady 
iEnid found the conversation as political as it had been 
at the dinner-table. One elderly lady, who was a Primrose 
Dame of high degree, waxed very eloquent in denunciation 
of the " outragd," as she called it, of " that low-bred Radical 
foisting himself upon the county to op]X)se the ^larquis uf 
Bulstrode, who was not only the son of a duke, but was the 
chosen and approved candidate of Eastland Castle. " What 
is the world coming to ?" she exclaimed indignantly. 
** Why, only the other day I heard that a greengrocer in 
Rigby, whose wife had been laundry-maid in the castle, 
actually declared that he would vote for that low-bred 
Radical. There is no such thing as gratitude nowadays." 

" Who is this Radical?" said iEnid to Muriel. 

"I really don't know," replied Muriel. "He is a total 
stranger ; no one has ever met him before, but the Radical 
Club in Rigby is bringing him out, and I believe he had to 
make his first speech to-night. Probably the meeting is 
being held at this moment." 

The Duchess made a sign to her daughter, who at once 
crossed the room. Returning, Lady Muriel said that her 
mother had asked her to go down to the f»ffice where they 
had arranged to have the progress of the Radical meeting 
reported by telephone. There was a strong feeling in the 
Constitutional Party, she said, in favour of breaking up the 
meeting by sending a large contingent of Loyalists to the 
meeting. They had issued such urgent api^eals against any- 
thing of the sort, that they hoped the meeting would be 
held in j^ace. Still they were uneasy, as any violence on 
the part of the LTnionists might irreparably damage the 
Castle cause. It was therefore necessary to have reports, and 
their agent in Rigby would telephone any news that there 
might be, so that they might be relieved of all anxiety 
before separating. The two girls eagerly accepted the com- 
zbjssioh, and went downstairs to the office, where the 



attendant was in charge of the telephone. He said that 
no message had been received, but that he would ring up 
and ask. In resjwnse to his inquiries they learned that 
the Radical meeting had been ix)st|X)ned ; no one knew 
why, but they were making inquiries, and would tele- 
phono later. Great was the jubilation in the drawing- 
room, and afterwards in the dining-room, when this 
message was repeated. But curiosity was on tiptoe as to 
the cause of the sudden abandonment of the Radical attack. 
The girls, nothing loath, went back to wait for the next 
message. Hardly had they entered the room than the 
message was received. " Radical meeting postponed, owing 
to accident to Radical candidate. Leg broken or some other 
accident, rendering it impossible for him to appear." 

Lady ^nid slightly quivered when she heara the message. 

" I did not think it was as bad as that," she said, half to 
herself. 

" What did you say ? " asked Muriel, sharply. 

" Nothing," said ifcnid. " I only said I did not think it 
was anything so bad as an accident which had led to the post- 
ponement of the meeting." 

When they returned to the drawing-room and delivered 
the message, a feeling of comiplacent satisfaction went 
through those present. 

" Quite providential," said the old Primrose Dame to Lady 
^Enid, who was standing near, who could not resist the 
temptation of remarking — 

" What an odd thing for Providence to do, is it not?" 

" True," said the old lady, not noticing the girl's face, " it 
would have been so much better if Providence had broken 
his neck." 

Lady ^Enid felt so savage at the brutality of the old lady's 
remark that she would have said something very rude had* * 
there not been a general stir through the room as the 
gentlemen entered. 

" Well, what have you settled ? " asked her Grace of the 
Chainnan of the Constitutional Association. 

"Lord Bulstrode will take the field at once, and there 
is no doubt that we shall be able to give a very good 
account of ourselves." 
' " Who is the Radical candidate, mav I ask ? " 

"Oh, the poor fellow who has brc»ken his leg! " said the chair- ■ 
man. " I really do not know. But let me present to your Grace 
the editor of the Bighy Fu^hman ; he knows all about him." 
' The editor of the Fugleman bowed and coloured up to the 
roots of his sandy-coloured hair. He had been a foreman 
printer a year or two ago, and this was his first introduction 
to high life. 

" Do tell us who is our opponent, Mr. Spitz." 

" His name," said the editor somewhat iK>miX)usly — " his 
name, it is Edmund Wilkes. He is believed to have been 
(lescended from John Wilkes, of whom you have, of course, 
lieard." 

" Yes," she replied smiling ; " but how comes he into this 
county ? " 

" A case of natural selection, your Grace. He naturally 
ought to be one of us. His father is a country gentleman 
in Gloucestershire. He is, indeed, quite well to do, has a 
great deal of money invested somewhere, I don't know 
how, but said to be very wealthy. Well-educated, too, so 
that he cannot have the excuse of ignorance for his mis- 
conduct. Took honours at Cambridge they say. But quite 
bitten with Socialism, he is a Land Nationaliser and a 
member of the Fabian Society, and I do not know how 
many other horrid things. We could not have had a better 
candidate to rally round the castle all the Conservative 
forces of the county ; and your Grace," said he, seeing an 
opportunity of blowing his own trumpet, " may rely ujx)!! 
it that the Btghy Fugleman will do its duty." 



The Radicals of Rigby. 



15 



"I have no doubt of it," said her Gmce, Btniliag pleasantly, 
while the treasurer of the Constitutional Association, who 
was standing near, with difficulty repressed a broader smile, 
for the Jiighg Fufiltnian was a "kept" oi^n, and the 
cheque which met its quarterly deficit came from the castle 
treasury. ' Of courne Mr. Spitz was not eipected to know 
this, for it is best to allow editors to imagine that they are 
doing themselves to death for the pure love of a sacred cause, 
wheD in reality they are simply engaged in the prosaic task 
of earning their daily bread. 



the cab. In getting him out of the vehicle they twisted his 
knee, nnd the shock of the {Ain recalled him sufficiently to 
consciousness lo enable him to exjiliiiii what had happeneil. 
The}' summoned a doctor, who said that the muscle? of the 
knee had been bndly straineil, and that he must on no account 
put his foot lo the ground for a week. Gretit was the chagrin 
of the committee, but the liallor of Mr. Wilkes' face, and 
the obvious impossibility of his being able to endure any 
physical fatigue, convinceil even the most turbulent that 
there was nothing for it but lo postpone the meeting. 




CHAPTER IT. 

TIThEN Jfr. Edmund Wilkes found himself deixisiled at 
\jj the cab-stand at the entrance of the town of Rigby 
he Has painfully conscious of the fact that the 
injury to his knee was much more serious than he 
anticipated. He hobbled with difficulty to the nearest cab 
and desired to be driven to the "Radical Arras," where a 
committee would, he knew, be waiting to receive him. Such 
indeed was the case, and when the cab drove up to the door 
of the hotel, great was the dismay of the committeemen to 
find their candidate in a dead faint inside the vehicle. The 
cabman explained that the gentleman had been driven up 
by a lady, that h« was quite kune, and must have fainted in 



Immense was their disgust at having lo abandon their first 
attack, but there was nothing for it but to yield with as 
good a grace as possible. The committee broke up in ill- 
bumoiir, which, however, was somewhat alleviated when on 
passing the Town Hall they found it surrounded by a dense 
crowd of their political opponents, who had taken «]> 
positions at all the doonvays with the view of entering the 
building and preventing a word of Radical oratory being 
heard. When some half hour afterwanls the crowd were 
informed that the meeting had been abarnloned owinc to 
an accident which had befallen the Radical candidate, there 
arose a contemptuous storm of cheers, for they were con- 
vinced that the accident was a put up job in order to save 
the Radicals from what, it was evident, would have been 
a complete fiasco. 



i6 



.The Splendid Paupers. ' 



The town of Rigby, with which Mr. Wilkes was making 
iiis first acquaintance under such unfavourable circumstances, 
was the one Radical stronghold in the county. Its Radicalism 
dated from the time of the rivalry between town and country 
which came to a head in the great Free Trade struggle. 
Rigby, crowded with artisans, went for the cheap loaf, while 
the country round about it, which was a wheat-producing dis- 
trict, went solid for Protection. Rigby as a borough, how- 
ever, had its own member, and the contagion of its Radicalism 
was not sufficient to leaven the agricultural district of which 
it was the natural capital. The greater jmrt of the ground 
on which Rigby stood belonged to the Duke of Eastland, 
and it was the ground-rents of Rigby which enabled the 
Duke to stand the racket of the ruinous fall of rents. If 
Rigby, however, had done much for the Duke, the Duke, in 
liis turn, had done much for Rigby. A statue to his 
|)redece8sor stood conspicuously in the market-place, and an 
inscription recorded the fact that the new market had been 
laid out and presented to the town by the Duke of Eastlanii, 
who also had rebuilt the town-hall and laid out the public 
l)ark for the benefit of the citizens. The living of the 
parish church was in the gift of his Grace, and the 
Fiigleinan was practically his kept paper. Against influence 
so pervading, so subtle, and so powerful it was inevitable 
that there should be a strong revolt. Human nature, 
«sj)ecially British human nature in a provincial town, dislikes 
to be i^eri^etually told that the patronage of the castle goes 
to your neighbour and not to yourself. Those who from 
one cause or another were, or believed themselves to be, in 
the black books of the castle, succeeiled in forming them- 
*^elves into a tolerably strong party of Anti-Eastlanders. It 
was the old story of Aristides over again. They had no 
fault to find with the Duke, but he was a duke, and they 
met him at every turn and were heartily sick of him, and 
wished to be done with him once for all. In the latter days 
this party, which had always existed in the town, had been 
re-inforced by the Socialist agitation, which had spread from 
London on the one hand and from Norwich on the other, 
and had as its objective the taxation — or as the more candid 
Socialists expressed it — the confiscation of the Duke's 
ground-rents. 

The Duke's property included the best sites in the town, 
and was in the best condition. It had from of old been a 
tradition of the Eastland estate never to grant a lease 
excepting on conditions which enabled the agent ])ractically 
to dispossess a leaseholder who brought the proi)erty into 
disrepute, and it was the exercise of this reserve ix>wer in 
the case of a publican and jerry-builder that gave the Duke 
of Eastland his most virulent opponent in the town of 
Rigby. This man, Joseph Brassy by name, had succeeded 
to the lease of a fully-licensed house on the Duke's proj)erty. 
The license was transferred without any objection being 
made to the character of the new lessee, but after a time 
the conduct of the house began to attract the attention of 
the pohce. From being one of the best conducted of the 
old hoatelries of the town, it became under Joe Brassy's 
management the rendezvous of all the poachers of the 
countryside. Whenever the police wanted a doubtful 
character they could find him or traces of him in the jiarlour 
of the " Red Dragon.** Raids were arranged there, and were 
carried out by gangs working into each other's hands in 
remote districts, so as to distract the attention of the ]X)!ice 
and throw the keej^ers off the scent. The Eastland estates 
were not strictly preserved, and the tenants had more of 
fiuch game as there was than the Duke himself. But along 
with the poachers, many of whom were professionals from 
London, there came professionals of another sort, and of the 
other sex, who established a centre of disorder and demoralisa- 
tion in the town, so as to compel public reference in the 



Press, and subsequently n the town council. The local 
Radical organ was very sarcastic concerning his Grace the 
Duke's disorderly house, and at last, after many warnings, 
the Duke's agent availed himself of the reserved right in 
the lease and turned Brassy out. This started him with a 
grievance. Being unable to obtain a license, owing to his bad 
character, he opened a temperance hotel in some of his own 
jerry-built property in one of the lowest }>arts of the town, 
where he was shrewdly believed by the ix)lice to do a good 
deal of shebeening, especially on Sundays. If this was the 
case, it was carried on so secretly that they were unable to 
secure evidence sufficient for conviction. 

Brassy at once threw himself viciously into the camf«aign 
against the Duke. He w^as a powerful si^eaker, and now 
that he had opened a temperance hotel he became the 
sworn ally of the temi)erance people, who at first looked at 
him rather askance, remembering how lately he had been 
holding the license of a public-house, but finally passed an 
act of oblivion on his behalf, and welcomed him to the fold 
as a useful ally against the other publicans. 

Brassy was present at the " Radical Anns " when Wilkes 
arrived, and had succeeded in inspiring the Radical candi- 
date with an unconquerable disgust. The keen sensitive- 
ness of the young man detected in a moment the false 
ring of Brassy's protestations, and when he called subse- 
quently to inquire after the candidate's health the candidate 
absolutely refused to see him. The man was surprised and 
offended, for he knew that Wilkes, so far from being too 
unwell to see any one, had had a long conversation on the 
previous day with the Congregational minister, who had 
called ujwn him on a similar errand. 

The Rev. Ebenezer Brown was, however, an altogether 
dift'erent sort of man from Brassy, with whom he reluctantly 
consented to act " for the sake of the cause " — that fommla 
which has covered so many strange alliances. Ebenezer 
Brown was a comparatively young naan, delicate and intense, 
wearing his life out with the strenuousness of the exertions 
he was making to pitchfork Rigby into the Kingdom of 
Heaven with one stroke, as a rustic pitches a sheaf of 
com to the top of the stack. Rigby, however, as the 
young minister said, "was swollen hard with wickedness 
and sin,** and was saturated with the conservatism of some 
centuries of history of which it affected to be not a little 
proud. Brown was unmarried, an exception among Non- 
conformist ministers, one of those exceptions which not 
only prove the rule, but which illustrate its general utility. 
For if Brown had been mooreii to this world by the soft 
loving arms of a wife and child he would never have 
wandered away into the fantastic idealism which was the 
chief characteristic of his ministry. The young minister, 
full of fervour, nourished himself on the denunciations 
of the Hebrew prophets, and Sunday after Sunday preached 
against those who added field to field and house to house, so 
that his more impressionable hearers shuddered, and the 
older pewholders whispered to each other ajiprovingly, 
** Ain't he givin' it 'enri hot ! " Brown kept it up weekday 
and Sunday, faithfully following his duty as he conceived 
it. ' Brown was a Fabian and a diligent reader of the London 
Daily Tribune, from which, as from an inexhaustible cniM, 
the tires of social Radicalism were every day replenished. 
Everything that went wrong in town or country was debited 
to the existing social order, and the Duke as the local head 
of the social system came in for no small share of the 
objurgations of this dissenting Boanerges. With his dia- 
tribes against the powers that be, were mingled eloquent 
descriptions of the glories of the time that was coming, 
when everything that is would be turned upside down, and 
when everything that now belonged to the individual would 
belong to the collective whole. " Whatever is, is wrong," 



The Radicals of Rigby. 



»7 



I luiglit I* taken to, be tlie st«rting-pomt of his gosie!; 
I and while be admitted thnt tiiere might he doubt« >h 

tu wiietber the nalvation uf mankind was io be brought 
) about b^ the sdoptiou of cullectiTiBm, Le was iiuit« wiUio;; 
I to ch&Dce it. 

But no one could meet liim without baiog 

iii* transpersnt Hinoerity 

and of the onthusiMm 

that consumed him. Uf 

Itiie be had given an ex- 

aiuTile mit many luoDtLs 

bef< r«. One of the lead- 
it^ me.nbers uf hie con- 

grogatioii, A truntee of 

lb« vbun'h, and a deacon 

vrboee contributions were 

lielieved to be the largest 

(if any individual in the 

fold, carried on a flouriKh- 

ing buBiuesB undar the 

Bign of the Three Balls. 

He wan, in fact, the lead- 
ing pawnbroker in Iligby. 

Ko one among al! Mr- 

Bmwn'i congregation had 

drunk in bo eagerly all 

that waH Mill aa tt< 

the iniijuilieH of Uml- 

lonliam and the duty of 

nationalising the land, 

but ho could hardly be- 
lieve his «ar« one Huuday 

when he beard from the 

(iidiiit an energetic a|>- 

peal for the in UDici[)(k] illa- 
tion of the jiawDaho]!. 

There was no mistak- 
ing Mr. Brown's eamesl- 

iiesti. He took his l«xt 

frviu LevitJcua, and illiiB- 

tniad it with facts and 

Agiires quoted from Hr, 

Donald's articlua iu Uit 

weekly ya^i Lm.dmi. 

[•roving beyond aL doulx 

that our i«wn syaieni 

less biimau even, thau 
was the Jewish nvsleni, 
and tlint viv bad Ing^ed 
far behind the morecivi- 
liseii nations of liie Oouti- 

Mr. Tantrun.'s facp 
(luring tlie delivery of 
lhi« aemioa was a study 
to behold. So at lenet 
the congregation «eenied 
-« think, f.ir they looked 
it him all the time they 
vere not gating at Ht. 
irown;_in fact, the niinisier seeineii to be the only 
mrson in the building unaware of the effect wliicli hi's 
liwourne waa producing u|Jon Mr. Tantrum. When ho 
had diBiniRsed tlie con^rcgiitii-n and descended from the 
iml|iit, he found llie deMcon* in vain endeavouring to 
control the fnrjr of the iiidigiiaiil Tantrum. The moment 
Ibe Jiale fnco of the miuinrer apjieare.! at the doorwav of ihe 
vestry, Mr. Tautnun Hew at him as if he would have 



','5 



knocked him down. "How dare you, sir," said he— "how 
dare you try to take away a man's living in the very hoasa 
of God — a house, too, which me and mine have doua more 
than any other peojile in Rigby to build and maintain I " 

" But, Mr. Tantrum " 

■' D.m'l Tanlnim me," xsjd that worthy, " not another 
word from vrnir l)i» ! 
To think of all these 
years that I have <u|>- 
l>oried this cause I I call 
it downriglit robbery, sir 
— robbery ! I helped to 
build this chapel as a 
bouse of {Waver, and 
iiehi'Mt you are ma 
ir a den of thiev 
\Vhereu[ion Mr. Tantrum 
-li'-ok off the dust from 

i.>i>umacie, the di-or^ of 
uliich he never again 
deigned to ilarheD. The 
following Sunday he at- 
tended the (Mrlsh church 
with his family, nud the 
next number of ihe liiijbg 

Mr. Tantrum.' ■'That 
eminent anddtstingiiishcil 
ciii^ten," had I'onnally 
severed his connection 
with the Radical Aflxociar 
tion, and bad applietl fur 
enrollment in the Conser- 
vative Club. Mr. Itfuwn 
mounied over his de- 
fcrtion, but so innocent 
was he of the world's 
wuyH, that he oould not 
liir the life of him under- 
ntiind the suggetttun of 
his deaconw, that iu 
fuiuro, when lie veniured 
to deal with any subject 
which was somewhat out 
of the usual course, be 
should take counsel with 
the officers of rhe church. 
With this fervent 
sjKslle of collectivism 
^Ir. Wilkes found many 
[Kiiuta of agreement, and 
together they disoumed 
the best way of conduct- 
ing the camjiaign against 
the Duke. The two men, 
vtfry dissiniibr in their 
theological alandpuiol, 
were nevertbelees at one 
in a fierce impatience of 
the evils of the present 
il system. Bn^ were young, and both were lu consumed 
with com|iassion for the suffering of those whone hardshipn 
they realised, that for the mere o'lance of relieviug thetu 
they were ready tu saoftfice the interests uf all other sectioua 
of the community. 

But what was much tnor« spHoiis fnim The political point 
or view was their Utter inability to measure the forces of 
adequately estimate tlio qiuilily of the 




i8 



The .Splendid Paupers. 



tro<^ps \\\y>n whom they dei^nded for support. Because the 
individualiHtic systern had worked and was working cruel 
injustice to multitudes, tlierefore they considered it was a 
case of " Sound alarums and advance all along the line " to 
make a clean sweep of the accursed thing. But they had 
no idea of how strongly entrenched was the enemy, or how 
few and straggling and ill-disciplined were the hosts which 
could follow their lead. 

The Rev. Ebenezer Brown saw the battle afar off, as a 
kind of preliminary skirmish of the battle of Armageddon, 
and prayed and preached and canvassed in the sincere and 
honest belief that he was contributing his mite to fulfilling 
the prophecies of Micah and Isaiah, upon whose inspired 
words he nourished his soul. Mr. Wilkes studied Karl Marx 
more than the Old Testament, and candidly avowed that he 
regarded the Bible chiefly as a useful arsenal from which he 
could extract texts with which to barb the shafts he 
launched at the enemy. In this he was no inapt pupil of 
Mr. Labouchere, the English jx)litician who has most of the 
letter and least of the spirit of Scripture in his discourses. 
But notwithstanding their different standjxiints, he felt the 
true handgrip of mutual faith and mutual confidence, and 
Ebenezer Brown, in the secrecy of his closet, poured out long 
and jiassionate supplications that the Lord of all mercy, who 
had led His servant so far along the true path, would vouchsafe 
the further blessing of illuminating his soul with Divine grace, 
and enable him to see the true bearing of the present social 
struggle amid the eternal jJans of the Providence of God. 

Another member of the Radical committee who was 
hardly less interesting to Wilkes, and who was always 
welcome to the nnim in which he lay niu-sing his knee, was 
Jolm Hopton, the secretary of the Trades Council of Rigby. 
Hopton was a man of thirty, and much more practical than 
either Wilkes or Brown. He had begun life as a crow-boy at 
the age of ten, and had picked up such book learning as he 
]X)6ses8e<l in the intervals of a life of continuous labour. 
Hopton had from his youth formed an almost superstitious 
reverence for the principle of association. Nothing was 
more constantly on his lips than Mazzini's declaration that 
the era of individualism was at an end, and the epoch of 
assiKjiation had begun. In his eyes the mere principle 
of association was the sum and substance of all religion — 
the key uf all progress and the one hope for men 
on earth. He promoted unionism as a Jesuit preaches 
CathoHcism. It was to him the one hoj^ of the world. It 
was (jwing to his initiative that the various straggling 
Trades Unions of Rigby were joined together in a Trades 
Council, and it was to his jwwerful influence and persuasive 
eloquence that the council, after being constituteil, continued 
to live and thrive. Hopton was a mechanic emi>loyed in an 
agricultural implement factory, and he had steadily refused 
all i>ro]x)sals to quit his forge for the Town Council or even 
for a higher position. Sincere and enthusiastic, he had 
neither time nor opportunity to study very deeply questions 
social, 4x>litical, or economic. What he saw with his rough 
instinct was that, as every Church had found it necessary to 
have a devil, so in his own Church, founded on the principle 
of association, it was necessary to have some incarnation of 
evil which would act as a constant incentive to action, and 
would serve as a l)ond of union. This incarnation of the 
Evil One he foun<l in the Duke and the system which he 
re]>resented. Of the Duke i^ersonally he had nothing to say 
but what was pleasant ; but the system which he rei)resented 
— that i»f hereditary power and the principle of class and caste 
distinction — he regarded as emanating from the bottondess 
pit, and he went for it with a whole-hearted enthusiasm 
which, together with the religious enthusiasm of Brown, 
nia<le up three-quarters of the working capital of the 
Radicals of Rigby. 




CHAPTER V. 

THE COUXTY OF BLANKSIIIRE. 

'HE county of Blankshire, which had Eastland Castle 
as its governing centre in old times, was one of the 
worst hit by tiie a^^ricultural depression. The heavy 
clays which enable it to i)roduce wheat were ouct> 
the despair of agriculturists elsewhere, but since Indian 
wheat had driven the i)rice down to ei;;hteen shillings a^ 
quarter, the land was ])racticidly unsaleable. Rents had 
fallen year after year, until the margin of landl(»rd'* pnitit 
had ceased to exist. Land, in fact, in Blankshire liad 
touched prairie value, ami in many cases had gone 
below it. The Duke of Eastland, for instance, with & 
rent-roll of £25,000, was receiving half the amount 
dra>vn by his father only twenty years before. In 187^ 
the rent-roll of Eastland was about £50,000 \)er annum. 
Of this sum about £25,000 was spent in maintaining 
the estate and the various charges with which it was 
encumbered. These charges had not been diminished, 
neither had the cost of keeping up the estate decreased 
one iota; and the result was that while the si)ending 
charges hatl remained the same, the actual income had 
fallen fifty j^er cent. The Duke was left practically without 
an income, every farthing being hypothecated before it came 
to his hands. His father had sunk, in the improvement of 
the estate, in erecting labourers' cottages, in rebuilding farm- 
houses, and in bringing the laud u\) to the high standard 
demanded by scientific agriculture, nearly a million sterling. 
The Duke had added to this a further outlay of a quarter of 
a million. What is called the net rent-roll, therefore, was 
hardly two jier cent, ujxm the actual capital s])ent in the last 
fifty years in the imi)rovement of the estate. Actual 
rent, as an Irish landlord understands it, that is to say> 
payment made by the tenant for land without improve- 
ments, had ceased to exist. The Duke of Eastland would 
have been practically jjenniless had he not had two other 
sources of revenue. First, there were the ground-rents of 
Rigbv, and secondlv, the dower of his wife. He had 
married a banker's daughter, and her dowry, together with 
the ground-rents, enabled him to keejj up the ancient style 
of the Dukes of Eastland without confessiLg to the outer 
world the decay of the ducal resources. 

The day after the Constitutional Associatitm had dined a.t 
the castle the Duke was closeted with the secretary of the 
association and the Conservative agent, whom he had 
summoned to the meeting. The agent was a new mau 
from London, Wirham by name, sent down by Ca]>taiD 
Middleton to undertake the organisation of the campaign on 
behalf of the Marquis of Bulstrode. Wirham was quick, 
keen, and energetic. He was clean-shaven, plainly dressed, 
but in excellent taste. He siK>ke little, but seized j)oint« 
with the rapidity of a thrush jncking up the early worm 
from the castle lawn. He knew nothing of Blankshire 
excepting, as he remarked, that it existed. Would they 
kindly consider that he knew absolutely nothing of their 
local afiairs and instruct him accordingly. "It is always 
the best way," he said aiM>logetically, " to regani the agent 
in such circumstances as the present as a sheet of blank 
jmper on which you must write the latest information as 
vou know it. Not until that is done can he even so much 
as outline the ])lan of campaign." 

"1 think we understand," said the Duke. "The situa- 
tion, unfortunately, is very simj»le. The key of the situation 
is to be found in the fact that wheat was qiioted at Colefotrd 
Market yesterday at 18s. a quarter. In Blankshire,** oon- 
tiuued the Duke, "the situation is about as bad as bad 
can be. This is equally the case whether it is regarded from 
ths political or the social point of view." 



The County of Blankshire. 



19 



" Would you explain," said Mr. Wirham, " exactly how 
it affects Blankshire." 

The secretary replied, " It affects it at every point and in 
every portion. The distress is already attaining lamentable 
proportions. The great failure of crops, which last j'ear 
resulted from the drought, led to reductions of wages in all 
directions, and what is much worse, to the throwing out of 
employment many labourers. Wages in Blankshire are 
always very low ; but they have gone do>vn during the last 
few weeks to starvation point. In one district the agri- 
cultural labourers are not receiving more than 8s. a week, 
and they are glad to get that. In the Rigby Union work- 
house there are at the present moment sixty more inmates 
than ever before at this time of the year. Usually the 
labourer succeeds in tiding over the October and November 
months by means of the earnings he has made during tlie 
harvest. But last year there was hardly any harvest to 
gather. The outlook is very serious." 

** That is bad for the labourer, no doubt, and for the little 
tradesmen, yet our strength does not lie with the lalM)urer.^, 
but with the landlords. Are they holding their own ? " 

The Duke smiled grimly. 

" In Blankshire nearly every large place is either let or 
shut up, owners being unable to pay more than the taxes and 
rates on their properties. They are powerless to sell, the 
estates being entailed. The labouring class does not protit 
by this. They work for strangers who may or may not take 
an interest in them, but who more often, having no old 
associations in the place, refuse the sympathy and ready 
help that the old landlonrs family took in every man, woman 
and child on his estate. The inhabitants of the villages 
round depend on work from the great house and estate — 
forty years* service being common to the men. These have 
to be pensioned or starve. A man prefers to let his j)lace to 
the rich parvenu rather than turn off, his dej^ndents and 
live in the midst of them in their distress." 

A map of Blankshire was spread out before them. It was 
a picture in itself. It was coloured all over with black 
patches as if they had been sprinkled over it from a pepper- 
caster, and each black patch represented a farm which had 
gone out of cultivation from the impossibility of finding 
any one who would work it even rent free. Quite as con- 
spicuous upc>n the map were the round discs of white which 
were pasted at irregular intervals over the county. On 
closer examination these were found to mark the seats of 
country gentlemen which were now untenanted or left in 
the charge of caretakers owing to the hard times. It seemed 
as if more than half the country places in Blankshire were 
empty. 

" It is a bad showing," said the secretary as he handed a 
list of the polling districts to Mr. Wirham. " In three 
quarters of tjiese divisions we have not a country gentleman 
left." 

" Is it so bad as that ? " queried Mr. Wirham. 

" It is indeed," said the Duke. " I have carefully gone 
through the county list, and you can see at a glance how the 
depression has thinned our ranks. Property," he continued, 
** has a very reduced garrison in Blankshire. We are very 
much in the position of a general after a Pyrrhic victory. 
All our strongnolds have been depleted by the hard times, 
and there is hardly any one left to hold the fort." 

"What about Sloane Hall," asked Mr. Wirham; "are 
things better there ? " 

"No," said the secretary. "I am sorry to say that things 
are very bad. The young earl is almost the only landowner 
in the county left who has any amount of money to spare. 
He is squandering his fortune. I was over there the other 
day, ana the place is a regular hotbed of Radicalism. If we 
should lose the seat ^ 



Tlje Duke virfiblv winced, but the secretarv went on 
stolidly, " If we lose the seat it will be more owing to the 
blackguardism of Lord Bladud than to anything else." 

"I should hardly have thought that Lord BIadud*s 
extravagance would have had precisely that effect," remarked 
Mr. Wirham. "It is not the spending of money, but the 
withholding of it, which loses elections." 

" That is no doubt true," replied the secretary. " But 
circumstances have changed. The Countess, wliom Lord 
Bladu<l has treated so shamefully that she had to appeal to 
the Divorce Court, was well known and Kked in the neigh- 
boiirho04i. There is a great deal of sympathy with her. 
This might not have mattered had it not l>een that the 
Methixlists have a terrible tul>-thum])er in the neighbour- 
IkkxI, wlio seems to imagine that the mantle of John the 
Baptist has fallen upon him, and he denounces Bladud and 
his mistresses in every conventicle in the countryside. The 
Socialists have taken it up, and quote Lord Bladud as a 
tyjncal example of the whole of the aristocracy. Thftre, 
they say, you have an accurate object-lesson of what the 
Peers do with the tribute they wring fn.>m the People." 

" They are working it hard," added the Duke. " I hear 
they are circulating a report of the Countess's proceedings in 
the Divorce Court, at the bottom of which is printed the 
single line, * These be your nilers, Israel.' " 

" How does the cloi«ing of these country jilaces affect the 
electorate?" asked Mr. Wirham. 

" Almost always for the worse," said the Duke. " The 
shutting up of the country houses means less work and more 
starvation. Radicalism is only himger in dilution." 

" Do you mean to say that Radicals liave jBpch chance of 
defeating the Marquis of Bulstrode?" askecPllr. Wirham. 

" No, things are not so bad as that. But there is no 
doubt that for the first time in our lives the Radicals have 
some chance of success." 

"Everything depends u]X)n their candidate and their 
organisation," said Mr. Wirham confidentlv. " What are 
thevlike?" 

" They have next to no organisation, and so far as I can 
hear no money at all. We are badly off, and they are worse, 
but thev will work niijht and day to carrv their man. Thev 
are huu2;ry and lean. Your fat, goixl Conservative will vote, 
but will do nothing else— sometimes is fott lazy even to do that." 

"Have none of these country houses been let to new 
l)eople? " said Mr. Wirham. 

" Yes," replied the Duke, " but it would be better for us 
if thev liad not been." 

" How is that V If the house is tenanted even by a new- 
comer, money is going, men are employed, and a new element 
of stability is intrtHluced into the countv." 

" I am not so sure of that," interrupted the secretary. 
" The new-comer is usually a vulgar, purse-proud creature, 
whose first idea is to get the utmost value for his money. 
He is a merciless game preserver, and will hear nothisg of 
the little usages and privileges which make niral life go easy, 
and he treaty the rustic, when he has to deal with him, with 
a supercilious hauteur which is bitterly resented. I would 
rather .a country house were vacafit, than that it should 
belong to a City man who attempts to run his establishment 
on the principles of the counting-house." 

" Well, that may be so ; but are any of them likely to 
help on one side or the other ? " asked Mr. Wirham. 

" One or two of them," said the secretary, " may help us, 
but as a rule they are too selfish and too little interested in 
the affairs of the county and of their country to bestir them- 
selves in politics. Stay, there is one exception, aiiil that is 
a very important one ; it is Mr. Faulm'ann, who last year 
bought Netherton Priorv, on the other side of Rigby." 

"WeU, whatofhim?^" 



20 



The Splendid Paupers. 



"He ia imtnennely rich, and for 9i>me reason or other 
preteDds tJ> be a fansticail iMirtiiiaii iif t)ie Rndicala ; in 
fact, I l)elieve I am correct in saying that but for hia 
■u|'|x>rt we should not have hail a Hadical candidate in 
Blatiknhire. He i» a German Jew. a banker of the City, 
and cbeiuicaf manufacturer of Uarlam, I think you 
will 6nd that be will be the Chainuan of the Kadical 

"Then how could you tell nie that the Badicala had no 
fuuds?" asked Mr. Wirliani Bliariily. 

"1 referred to the orgauisatiuu," replied the secretary. 
" Mr. Faulmann has 
pjenly, but if he 
18 to finance this 
election you may 
depend upon it it 
will lie run on (lie 
chea{>. 8omeoftbe 

bare been rcHttiiig 
Netberton Priory 
according to bis 
ideas declare that 



biH*." 

"Tlie situation," 
■aid Mr. VVirbaui, 
"reduces itself then 
to this. Every one 
is bard up; the other 
ude.at least, as much 
as wo. Tbey have 
one ally uhich we 
liave not — hunger ; 
for tbs depretwion 
which depojiulates 
our rankx fills theirs. 
The situation 
serious,' but by 

Here at Eastland we 
are on firm ground. 
Tim is the key of 
the [KMition ; but 

Bladud to secure 

his supi")rt at the other end of Ihi 

The Duke'ii face fell. "Do you think that 
tlial is indispensable '/ Lord Bladud U in 
Buch evil odour in the county that I thitik 
we should be stronger without him and his 

BUpIKirt." 

"There is no room for sentiment in politics," 
said Mr. Wirham, sent«ntiously. " Bladud may 
be suniewbat lacking in the Christian graces, but he 
owns thirty thousand acres of land, he has plenty of 
money, and we cannot alford to make a gift of hia 
influence to the Badlcais. Between Eastland Castle 
and Sloane Hall we shall be able to ro)* them in, never 

The Duke ghnced at the secretary. " I think, Mr. 
Wirham," said that gentleman, "you hail better leave the 
question of Lord Bladud over for the present, until you have 
had more onportunity of learning the feeling in the county 
concerning him." 




"Certainly, certwnly," said that gentleman. "It will 
never do to be too nqueamiah. Elections are not won witli 
roaewater, and if you refuse to co-o[)enitB with any one 
except saints you will infallibly land at the bottom of the 
poU. Bemember the Badicals have no such scruiJes, other- 
wise they would hardly have Mr. Faulmann as chairman of 
their committee. But adjourning that question ; what about 
the Primrose League ? " 

" Her Grace," said the local secretary, " is at the head of 
the Order in Blankshire ; but it ban been run more from 
the point of view of sociability and charity than from 
partisanship." 

Mr. Wirham 
shook his head. 

doubt," said he, 
"but not war. 
These fine B?:;ti. 
ments, which do her 
Grace much honour, 
will hardly contri- 
bute to the success 
of Lord Bulstrode," 

The Duke was 
nettled by this re- 
flection U]x>n his 
wife, but lookeil out 
of the window and 
said nothing. 

"You see," aaid 
the CunservntivB 
secretary, "Blank- 
shire has never been 
considered to be a 
contested county, 
nor was there the 
need for BuWrdlna- 
ting everything to 
julitical considera- 
tions which there 
U in leas liappily- 
■ :ed couatitu- 

" Of course," said 
Mr. Wirham. •'! un- 
derstand. The es- 
Elauatiun is obvious, 
ut the remedy is 
much more difficult. 
I su])pose we can 
depend upon the 
clei^y ? " 

" Yes," said the 

lijcftl secretary, "wo 

can get them into 

line by working the 

Welsh Church 

oracle, otherwise 

they are not very keen partisans. But I am afraid that the 

Radicals, as far as I can make out, intend to say very little 

about the Welsh Church, and nothing about Home Rule." 

"Oh, Home Rule does not count," said Mr, Wirham 
airily; "of course they will say nothing about Home Rule — 
that ia our card, not theirs. But our first duty is to rally 
the Church to the defence of the Constitution. The first 
step in the campaign is to issue a special apiieal to the 
clergy, urging them to form committees in their parishes to 
assist in resisting the attempt to destroy the Welsh Church. 
Each of these c ■— --- --■-•< -- - '- — ' -'--■ — i 



DUKE AND THE ELBCTIOS I 



A-ill sen-e as a local electoral 



An Episode in Knickerbockers. 



21 



centre for Lord Bulatrode's return. By-the-bye," said 
Mr. Wirham, carelessly, ** if they are not going to fight on 
Home Rule, and are going to say nothing about the Welsh 
Church, what do they mean to fight on ? " 

" The land for the people, I think," said the Duke with a 
somewhat sardonic smile. " At least, that is the idea of the 
London man whom they have brought down. I don't 
think he will find much response in Blankshire, where land 
can be had for the asking by any one who will undertake to 
pay rates and taxes." 

" What about allotments ? " 

" On my estates," said the Duke, " every one has had an 
allotment who cared to ask for one, but as you know, 
Blankshire clay is not very suitable for allotment purjwses." 

" Oh, the allotment cry," said Mr. Wirham, " counts for 
very little in the county where people know what land is. 
Its great pull is in towns. You will find more electors keen 
about allotments in Rigby and Coleford than in the rural 
districts." 

"Now," said the Duke, " I think we have given you all 
the information at our disposal." 

"What about the register?" asked Mr. WTirham. 

" It is in excellent condition," said the secretary. " His 
Grace has seen to that. If you will come with me to Higby, 
we will go to the office and begin operations at once." 

Thereuix)n the London agent and the local secretary 
bowed themselves out and drove off to Bigby. As soon as 
they reached the office, Mr. Wirham said — 

** Now the first thins to be done is " 



it 



Hold meetings," suggested Mr. Holdem. 

" Sir," said Mr. Wirham, " that is the last thing to be 
done. The first thing to be done is to prepare the ground. 
Get envelopes addressed to every clergyman and curate? in 
the county. We can do nothing without the Church. 
Remember it is worth more to tune the pulpit than to rouse 
the platform. The first thing to be done on our side is to 
rope in the parson. We must prepare a circular and enclose 
with it the ammunition issued by them in defence of the 
Welsh Church. I think you will find that is a stinger," said 
he, throwing a double-leaded, black-letteretl leaflet, which 
Mr. Holdem took up and scrutinised with some interest. 

" Pretty stiff," said he. " * Blasphemy,' 'sacrilege,' * plunder.' 
Don't you think it is pitching it rather high, for after all it 
only affects a beggarly quarter of a million a year?" 

" Sir," said Mr. Wirham, " you amaze me. Read what 
his Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury has said. You will 
find it quoted at the end of the leaflet. You see in the 
Archbishop's opinion this is the greatest crisis which has 
ever confronted the Church since its founding in these 
islands." 

Mr. Holdem gave an incredulous whistle. 

" It is all very well for you to whistle," said Mr. Wirham 
testily, " but I defy any clergyman to whistle in that fashion. 
.Why, it would be flat mutiny, in face of the Archbishop's 
opinion, for any mere parish priest to hold aloof from the 
Bacred cause. But I must be going." 

" W^here are you going ? " said Mr. Holdem. 

" Ha — hum," said Mr. Wirham, hesitating, " I have just 
time to catch the train; I am going to dine with Lord 
Bladud at Sloane Hall." 

" Whatl" cried Mr. Holdem, "was it not understood ?" 

"I don't know what his Grace understood," said Mr. 
Wirham airily. " What I have to do is to win this election. 
That is my business; his Grace can do as he pleases." 
Whereupon Mr. Wirham departed. 

• " Hum," thought Mr. Holdem, " these London men are 
pretty smart, but they ^«^ill overreach themselves, I reckon, if 
they consider that they will run this election without con- 
sidering his Grace's opinions." 



CHAPTER VI. 

AN EPISODE IN KNICKERBOCKERS. 

eADY .ENID'S fears that some inouiry might be made 
about the accident on the road to E^tland were 
unfounded. The commotion occasioned by the coming 
contest caused her arrival to be overlooked. As she had 
always come and gone in a very independent manner, it 
occasioned no remark when, early on the following day, she 
announced casually at breakfast that she was going to ride 
into Rigby to get a new riding-skirt. On arriving at Rigby, 
Lady JCnid left her bicycle to be repaired, and went off to a 
ladies' tailor to l)e measured fer a cy6Ung suit. " I have 
risked my life often enough," she said to herself, " witli 
these horrid i)etticoat8. On a cycle, at least, they are not 
compulsory." By the time she had been measured and had 
strolle<l round the. town her machine had been repaired. 
As she cycled down the High Street she passed the " Radical 
Arms," and, gazing up, caught the eye of Mr. Wilkes who 
was looking down into the street from one of the windows. 
He started, but she preserved her composure, and was soon 
lost to sight. 

Fpr the next few days ^nid found abundant occu|>ation 
in teach in.'j Lady Muriel to ride the bicycle. The castle was 
full of guests. The great time was coming on when the 
pheasants were to be massacred, and the talk at meals and 
afterwards almost exclusively turned ujwn sport. To Lady 
iEnid, who had never killed anything in her life, the 
monotony of the ceaseless talk of sh«x)tii3g and hunting 
was rather wearying, and she was delighted when one 
day the p<jst brought her a letter from an old Australian 
acquaintance who had come over to this country for the 
puriK)se of devotino; herself to the profession of nursing. 
. The letter, which had beien forwarded from Six Elms 
Castle, ran as follows : — 

Dear Lady uEnid, — I haven't the ghost of an iilea whero 
you are at present, but if you are within a hundred miles of 
Liverpool Street I bc^soech you of your charity to corae and 
cheer the eyes of your devoted but desolate friend. I am 
here, like Robinson Crusoe, on a desolate island in the most 
out-of-the-way place you can imagine. If ever there was a 
God-forsaken place in this world it is Garlam, where I am in 
sole charge of an improvise^! hospital. There is plentv to d), 
for typhoid fever is epidemic, and I have been sent down to 
relieve a nurse who is invalided. It is a manufiicturing 
village, which has been created by the lead works — and such a 
village ! If ever you are inclined to be discontented with your 
lot, come and see how these people live. I have a spare room 
in the hospital, and could put you up in the matron's quarters. 
So, do come, if you can find time. I am simply languishing for 
some one to talk to. Do come — Yours affectionately, Ethrl. 

P.S. — I forgot to tell you that the only civilised person to 
whom I can tnlk is the doctor, and he is away just now and 
has sent the oddest locum tenens in the world, a Dr. Glogoul,or 
some such name. He is an American, and the most tiresome 
])er8on you ever saw. I believe he is not a Christian a bit, 
and his sentiments are worse than those of a cannibal. 

The moment Lady ^Enid read the letter she determined to 
go, and was the more disposed to do so for her new cycling 
suit had just arrived from the Rigby tailor, and she was 
burning to wear it. At the same time she was rather in awe 
of the Duke, and feared to make her first appearance in the 
sacred precincts of Eastland Castle. 

" Has any one any idea," she asked at lunch, " where 
Garlam is ? Is it far from here ? " 

"Garlam! " said Lady Muriel. " I have heard the name, 
but I do not exactly know where it is. After lunch we will 
ask the agent." 

" Wherever it is," said Lady iEnid, coolly, " I am going to 
cycle there if it takes me a week. I am going to start to- 



22 



The Splendid Paupers. 



morrow morning first thing, before any of you are up, and 
then you see, Muriel," she added ahnoet timidly, " I shall be 
able to air my knickerbockers, and get accustomed to them 
before any one in the castle sees them.'* 

After lunch they found the agent, who told them that 
Oarlam lay at a distance of about sixty miles from the 
castle. It was just on the other side of Lord Bladud's place 
at Bloane Hall. 

"Could you pick out the road for me on my cyclists' 
map?" said Lady ^Enid, producing her well-thumbed copy 
of the road-map of Blankshire. 

" Certainly," said the agent ; " but you are surely not 
thinking of going ? " 

" I am going there to-morrow," said Lady ^nid. 

" Perhaps you have some friend in the neighbourhood ? " 

" Why," said the girl, " surely it is not such an out-of-the- 
way place as your remark would imply ? " 

" Well," said the agent, " it is not a place a young lady 
can go to very well by herself. It is a miserably dirty 
place, with a couple of gin-shoj^a, half-a-dozen beerhouses, 
and not a decent hotel in the place. There is certainly no 
house in which you could find accommodation. The dis- 
tance is too far for you to come back in the same day. It 
measures almost seventy miles on the map." 

" Well," said Lady Muriel, as they left the office, " you 
will not go, then ? " 

** Won't I, though. There is nothing so nice as a spice of 
adventure. Besides, I am going to stay with my dear 
Ethel." 

" You did not tell me that," said Muriel. 

" Read her letter then," said -<Enid, handing it to her. 

After Muriel had read it she asked, "But are you not 
afraid of Dr. Glogoul ? " 

" Not in the least," was the airy reply. " I have seen 
him before. I met him when I was staying at the Sterlings. 
He is not a favourite of mine; but afraid of him — no! 
Muriel, did you ever know what it was to be afraid of a 
man ? I never did, and 1 don't intend to ! " said the young 
girl^in all the conscious might of a gymnast of nineteen. 

" Well," said Muriel, " if you mean to go, I suppose you 
will go. All the same, I do not like it. There was some- 
thing in the tone of the agent which seemed to imply more 
than he expressed." 

" So much the better ! " said JEmd recklessly. " You do 
not know what a charm there is in cycling by yourself through 
an unknown country. You feel like one of the knights of 
the Round Table pricking forth in quest of adventures. In 
these prosaic times, when you never ride unless you are 
followed by a groom, and for the most part drive in 
broughams or ride in railway carriages, we have lost the 
whole charm of romance of the olden days. But it's all 
coming back with the cycle." 

Muriel put her arm round Enid's neck, and kissed her. 
" For you, perhaps, Niddie, but for me life has no such 
fascinations of adventurous romance." 

" You poor thing ! " said ^nid sympathetically. 

Lady iEnid spent an hour that afternoon overhauling her 
cycle. After seeing that all was in order and ready for 
the morning, she left orders that it was to be brought to 
the hall door at six o'clock. She consulted the barometer, 
and then tripped over to the gamekeeper's lodge to hear 
from the chief authority how he thought the wind was 
likely to blow on the morrow. She was a great friend of 
the gamekeeper, not so much for what he killed as for what 
he kept aUve. The cottage was a perfect menagerie of pets, 
among whom Lady JEuid was very much at home, and with 
the gamekeeper she had struck up an intimate acquaintance. 

" And so you are going to Garlam ? " said the keeper. " It 



is a queer place for a young lady hke you to be going to 
all alone. They do say that the devil is not so black as 
he is painted. The Garlam people be rough, but maybe 
they would not do you any harm." 

" Why, what harm could they do me ? " 

" Heave half a brick at you, put a stick between the six>ke», 
or cut your tyre, or anything else that might come into their 
savage minds. It is an outlandish place, is Garlam, with 
never a soul to look after any one." 

" Oh, yes there is ! " said Lady ^^nid. " I am going to 
see the nurse at the hospital. She looks after the sick folk, 
anyhow." 

" Hospital ! " said the keeper ; " that's new. Not so long 
ago — not two years ago — when our Dick was helping in Lord 
Bladud's preserves, they had no more a hospital than they 
had a church, or schoolhouse, or anything. Bad as they are, 
they are better than the folk at Sloane Hall. There is the 
civilised savage, and there is the rough savage, and the 
civilised savage is the savager of the two. There be many 
hell-holes in this Christian land, but saving your pardon, 
m' Lady, the helliest hole of the lot is Sloane Hall." 

He was an old man, the keeper, and privileged withal. 

Lady ^Enid had the vaguest idea of what the keeper 
meant by his warning about Lord Bladud. Life had gone 
easily with her. Although she had had the run of all the 
newspaj^ers, and had been brought up in the free and easy 
atmosphere of Australian life, all she had read or heard of 
the dark and lurid fringe of human life had left no definite 
impression \i\yon her mind. Therein she difi*ered very little 
from the majority of girls at her age. That there is evil, and 
plenty of it, misery and crime, they know, but it is a thing 
apart, nor do they ever dream that the sharp and rugged 
edge of circumstance can ever tear its way into their lives. 
The passions, and all the havoc they work with human 
lives, are to them a kind of stage-play which they witness 
from their cushioned stalls, causing them a passing thrill, 
but they regard them as apart from their own existence. It 
was, therefore, without alarm or anything beyond a certain 
heightened sense of enjoyment, that Lady iEnid, on being 
called at five o'clock the next morning, arrayed herself in her 
new costume and surveyed herself in the glass. It was a 
new sensation for her. At first she hardly realised that 
the saucy, piquant young woman in the coat and knicker- 
bockers looking at her from the glass was Lady ^nid 
Belsover, her very self. She felt a little strange, and took 
a turn or two in the room just to try what her clothes felt 
like. Then she looked again in the glass, and a sense of the 
deUghtful but innocent impropriety of it all caused her to 
flush just a little. "After all," she thought, "I do look 
well in it, and it will be twice as easy to cycle in, and not 
nearly as dangerous." 

But in order not to scandalise the servants at the castle, 
and to prevent any gossip after her departure, she carefully 
robed her knickerbockered limbs in a convenient skirt and 

ent down to breakfast. Her travelling kit did not weigh 
more than fifteen pounds. It was speedily fastened to the 
handle-bar,' and shortly after six she was dashing down the 
avenue to the park gates. 

The sun had not yet risen, and there was a slight frost 
in the air, which made active exercise all the more delightful. 
She could see the deer already browsing in the glades, and 
now and then a rabbit popped out of the bracken and ran 
across the road in front of her. Nature was profoundly 
silent. The solemn silence which the air holds at sunset 
difiers from the silence of early morning, not in its intensity, 
but in its solemnity. There is a briskness about the early 
morning air and a sense of the vigour of life to come which 
is lacking at eventide. Lady i£nid never slowed up until 



An Episode in Knickerbockers. 



23 



she reached the lodge gates. A moment more and she was 
out on the turnpike road. 

She bicycled on for a mile or two, and then, looking care- 
fully behind and before, she dismounted, unbuttoned her 
skirt, strapped it on the handle-bar, and remounted, not 
without a sense of guilty shame, which was transmuted into 
a sense of devout thankfulness that there was no one near 
to see her. It was a delightful sensation, feeling that she 
need not trouble herself about her skirts. The first hill 
which she glided down, with her feet up and no fear 
of her petticoats catching in the rapidly revolving i)edals, 
was a delightful experience which she never forgot. As she 
neared Rigby, she began to wonder whether or not she 
should put on her skirt in passing through the town, and 
whether she might be recognise 1. Reflecting, however, that 
it was barely seven o'clock, and that there would not be 
many people about, she rode on without stopping. Soon 
she found herself in the middle of the High Street. 

There were more people about than she bargained for. 
Workmen were going to breakfast, and carts laden with 
agricultural produce were coming into the town, and there 
were all the usual signs of awakening life. It was t(X) late 
to stop now, so Lady iEuid, l(X)king as unconcerned as 
possible, passed the carts and the groups of workmen down 
the eastern road. The men 8topi)ed and looked at her, 
interchanging remarks among themselves, but that was all. 
It was not until she was beginning to congratulate herself 
upon having got through the town, that a hobbledehoy, 
coming out of a cottage, set eyes upon her. 

For a moment he stare<l with open eyes and mouth, 
then he cried, " Oh my, look ! Come here, Jim ! " There- 
upon Jim, apparently his brother, emerged from the cottage 
with his mouth full of bread. " Ixx)k there — look there, 
there's a girl with breeches on 1 Hi ! " and thereu^xyn the 
young lout, anxious to have a nearer view of this unwonted 

Ehenomenon, started clattering down the street after her. 
ady .^nid flushed hot to the tips of her ears, and bending 
forward, rode her cycle speedily out of earshot of the 
objectionable young ruffian. He had done her no harm, but 
his rude exclamation of startled wonder and the clattering 
of his hobnailed boots on the road behind her made her 
somewhat nervous. When she reached Coleford, the next 
town through which she passed, she dismounted before 
reaching the suburbs and donned her skirt. She felt it was 
a weak compromise, but the memory of the lout scampering 
after her was too vividly impressed upon her mind for her to 
risk a similar experience. 

By degrees the influence of the morning air, the exhilara- 
tion of rapid movement, and the intoxication of physical 
health, obliterated the painful reminiscence, and she delighted 
in the new sense of liberty and of power. Cycling, which is 
a convenience for a man, is a necessity of life for a woman 
— of life, that is to say, real Ufe, for off their cycles many 
girls are never conscious of a moment's independent exist- 
ence. They are the bond-slaves of Mrs. Grundy, and 
generally held in by some other will than their own, whether 
it is that of an individual parent or guardian, or the impal- 
pable, imdefinable opinion of the general community. The 
cycle is fatal to the chaperone, and the girl-cyclist who 
launches out on her wheel is as free as any wandering 
knight of olden time, to go where she pleases and meet 
what adventures seem good in her own eyes. For the most 
part the adventures are of the mildest, but there is sufficient 
possibility of the disagreeable to give a charm to even the 
most commonplace excursion. 

Of this Lady iEnid was soon to have a rather unpleasant 
experience. She lunched at a roadside village which could 
boast of an inn, a relic of the coaching days, and therefore 
not lacking in accommodation for cyclists. After lunch, 



when she came to pay her bill, she wanted a £5 note 
changed. The waiter said that it would be necessary for 
him to go to the bank, which was some little distance off, 
in order to get change. She said she would wait at the 
comer of the street. She had lunched in her knickerbockers, 
and thinking nothing of the village public, she had not 
resumed her skirt after her meal. As she stood at the 
street corner waiting for the return of the waiter, her 
costume attracted the attention first of one and then another 
of the rustics. They had just finished dinner, and were 
about to return to work. Presently, almost before she knew 
how it happened, she was surrounded by a crowd of from 
twenty to thirty men and women, who interchanged 
remarks at the top of their voices which were the reverse 
of complimentary. The bucolic mind is essentially 
conservative, especially in the matter of dress, and the 
viragoes of the village were quite savage with the "girl in 
breeches." 

" It's a scandal, it is," said one. " A houtrage, I calls it," 
said another ; " it oughtn't to be allowed." 

"That it oughtn't," chimed in another. "Where's the 
police ? I would give her in charge if he was only here ; but 
he never is where he is wanted." 

All the while Lady ^Enid stood as composedly as possible, 
waiting for that waiter. Would he never come ? Attracted 
by the clatter of women's tongues, and seeing a crowd 
which always seems to indicate that there is something worth 
looking at, i)eople came running up from all parts of the 
village. The women were meanwhile beginning to work 
themselves up to a state capable of physical violence. 

" What are we comin' to ? " asked one, " when young 
hussies can go about in breeches like this ? " 

" What right has she got to breeches ? " said another 
matron, wiping her hands upon her apron. 

" Tak' 'em off her," shouted a mischievous urchin on fhe 
other side of the crowd. * 

" So I will," shouted the woman, who began to approach 
Lady ^nid with the intention of carrying out her. threat. 
There was no knowing to what length- the virago might 
have gone. Lady JEu'ui was in despair. Just at this moment 
the waiter came hurrying up with the change. The little 
crowd shrank back in silence, and before it closed again Lady 
JEnid had mounted her bicycle and was riding down the 
street with an outward dignity which sadly belied her real 
feelings. 

" What savages ! " she thought ; " what would have 
hapi>ened if that waiter had not come just when he did ? 
How horrible ! " For the first time in her life a sense of the 
grimmer realities of existence dawned upon Ijier mind. For 
a moment she was cowed and miserable. Then there came 
to her a thought which always comes to those who suffer in 
breaking, by however short a road, through the palaeocristic 
sea of use and wont. She felt that, however horrid it might 
be, still it was worth while to suffer that others who came 
after might enjoy a larger liberty and be free from insult and 
threatened outrage. So with a pardonable feeling of the pride 
of the martyr, she continued her journey through the pleasant 
wooded coimtry of Blankshire. 

The birds were singing gaily in the sunshine. The 
early frosts had coloured the copses. The cattle looked 
lazily up from their pasture as she went by. Every 
now and then she came upon fields overgrown with thistles, 
hedges untrimmed, and ditches uncleaned, and all the out- 
ward and visible signs of a derelict farm. Twice on her 
journey she passed country houses shut up, with the grass 
growing in the carriage drives, no smoke issuing from *t{ie 
chimneys, the windows closely shuttered, and everywhere 
a look of blank desolation. 

Girl though she was, she had still some knowledge of the 



The Modern Town of Garlam. 



25 



carping cares which accompany the decadence of the 
proi)erty of the household. Six Ehns Castle had always 
kept a brave show to the outside, but at what a cost of 
heart-breaking economy and starving of the household 
within Lady ^Enid knew only too well. "How much 
pleasanter/' she thought, "to cycle through the country 
than to own it. I have all the fun of it and none of the 
nuisance. Now at Six Elms we have pretty nearly all the 
nuisance and none of the fun. I wonder which is the road 
to Garlam ?— there is the sign-post in the distance." 

With that she quickened her speed. The sign-post, that 
indispensable finger-post of civilisation, pointed in two direc- 
tions — one was to Sloane HaU, and the other to Garlam. She 
took the Garlam road. It was still early in the afternoon, and 
as far as she could make out she was about ten miles from 
her destination. From the summit of a hill, over which the 
road ran, she could look down upon the sea, which stretched 
away as far as the eye could see to the eastern horizon. The 
road led directly towards a hazy, smoky blot in the landscape, 
through which one tall chimney towered aloft. " So that is 
Garlam,** she thought; "I shall be there before sunset." 
But remembering what she had heard of the inhabitants, 
she carefully arrayed herself in her skirt before venturing 
to ride through the long, narrow, dirty, muddy streets which 
she was rapidly approaching. 

" How odd it is," said ^Euid, as she was buttoning on her 
skirt ; " I really have found a new test of civilisation. Places 
through which you can ride without baing insulteii aro 
civilised, and those where I have to wear my skirt ar3 
barbarous. . At least, I think so, if civility has anything to 
do with civilisation." 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE MODERN TOWN OF GARLAM. 

*HE town of Garlam was one of those prulucts of the 
nineteenth century of which civilisation has reason 
to be ashamed. Not that civilisation had anything]; 
to do with Garlam. It was an excrescence rather 
than an outgrowth of civilisation. When the Patent White 
Lead Company, Limited, of which Mr. Faulniann was the 
chief shareholder and managing director, cast alxjut for a 
locality in which it could manufacture the comnnxlity 
which gave the title to the firm, Mr.. Faulmann selected the 
little fishing village of Garlam. There was a small inlet 
which, with a little dredging, could l)e converted into a dock- 
basin, where ships could load and discharge at all times of 
the tide. There was no local authority in the place, a fact 
which the observant Mr. Faulmann duly noted. There 
were no sands or rocks upon the sea coast, only a long 
stretch of mud, over which the tide lazily spread itself twice 
a day, and then subsided. 

The nearest town was ten miles distant. All the surrounding 
property belonged to the Earl of Bladud, who was perfectly 
willing to part with as much ground as the company wanted 
in return for cash down. The capital of the company was 
about £100,000, but its business was extremely profitable. 
Mr. Faulmann, during his continental travels, had succeeded 
by some means or other, into which it is better not to look 
too minutely, in inducing the Turkish Government to 
entrust him with a monopoly for the supply of white leatl 
throughout the Ottoman Empire. Of this monopoly or 
concession Mr. Faulmann and the men of straw who were 
associated with him on the Board made the most. They 
only did business with Turkey, and exported the whole of 
the output of Garlam to various ports in the East. 

The company was one of the most flourishing in the 
business. For the last five years — that is to say, since the 
monopoly was granted — the Patent White Lead Company 




had paid a dividend of twenty per cent, over and above the 
handsome allowance which they made to the managing 
director. The works were conveniently situated for the 
export trade. That was the cmly thing for which Mr. Faul- 
mann cared. When he built his works it never occurred 
to him to inquire about the nature of the subsoil, which 
was marshy clay, or as to the water supply, which was 
confined to a brackish and sluggish stream that emptied 
itself into the inlet by the side of which the works stood. 
The works were built by contract, and the contractor who 
put them up broucrht his men down from London, 
bivouacked them in huts in the neighbourhood imtil the 
job was finished, and then carted them away again. 

When Mr. Faulmann opened the works he was con- 
fronted with the difficulty of finding accommodation for 
the men — labourers for the most part, who were sent down 
by the labour registries to whom he had duly reported his 
want of labour. There were only half a dozen cottages in the 
original hamlet, and these, although they took in lodgers to 
the utmost of their capacity, were unable to provide adequate 
shelter for Mr. Faulmann's hands. Some rumour of this state 
of things having reached Rigby, Brassy, the jerry-builder, 
had an interview with Mr. Faulmann, and before the week 
was out foundations were being put in for a row of jerry- 
built houses in the immediate vicinity of the works. The 
foundations were little more than a few courses of brick 
below the level of the ground. There was no pretence at 
draining the houses w^hicli we e reared in this marshy clay. 
They stood back to back, without yards or any necessary 
accommodation. The ashes and refuse were thrown into 
middens on the opposite side of the road. Mr. Bi^assy 
built at the corner of the first street a public-house, for 
which he secured a full license. He did not, however, 8toi> 
there, but placed it in charge of his nephew, who had 
served his time as barman and tapster at the " Red Dragon," 
at Rigby. 

Such was the beginning of the town of Garlam. By-and- 
by, as the business flourished and more and more workmen 
came to the town, other streets were built in a similar 
fashion. The Rural Sanitary Authority, however, had its 
attention directed to several cases of "enteric fever. They 
sent down their inspector, and insisted that some elementary 
l)recautions should be taken to provide the people of Garlam 
with the first essentials of sanitary existence. Mr. Faulmann 
never entered the village which had grown up round his 
works. It was none of his business, he said ; private enter- 
prise must supply houses. It was enough for him to manu- 
facture white lead. He paid good wages, none better ; and 
if the working man was worth his salt, he would see that 
he was properly lodged and had all necessary conveniences. 
When the inspector pointed out to him the need for an 
improved water supply, Mr. Faulmann said he entirely 
agreed, but it was none of his business. He had not 
a house in the place, and all his attention was devoted 
to the management of the works.- He was not going to 
convert free and indei:>endent workmen into servants and 
vassals by troubling himself with what they did with their 
wages when they left his works. He had no more to do 
with them than they with him after work hours. 
■ Now most of the property belonged to Mr. Brassy, who 
had put it up, and was charging his wretched tenants more 
than would have been a fair rent for good sanitary property 
with all the necessary appliances for health. Mr. Brassy 
expressed his willingness to do anything, and in earnest 
therei^f sank cess^xwls at intervals throughout his property 
in which the sewage of the neighbouring houses could 
accumulate. He also sank a well in the immediate neigh- 
bourhood of the stream from which they had hitherto drawn 
their supply of water. For this he charged a halfpenny a 



26 



The Splendid Paupers. 



pail, for water was too precious a commodity to be had 
without payment. Besides, the less water there was, and 
the more one had to pay for it, the greater was the pro- 
bability that the inhabitants would find their way to the 
bar of the " Green Man." 

The workmen were as a rule Welsh and Irish, and were 
divided into cliques mutually antipathetic, neither of whom 
would dream of cordially co-operating with one another 
for the attainment of the greatest possible good for the 
town. There was no resident vicar or any place of worship. 
Occasionally a Catholic priest came to the village to see that 
the children were baptised ; but for his ministrations there 
was little call. In this way there had gradually groAvn up a 
township of 6,000 or 6,000 inhabitants, utterly destitute of 
all means of grace, excepting an iron mission-room, which 
had been opened by the benevolent exertions of the Countess 
of Bladud, who on one occasion after her separation from her 
husband had been called to Garlam to see an old lady's-maid 
who was dying there, and had been so penetrated with a 
sense of the squalid misery of the place, that she had 
opened a mission-hall, which three Sundays out of four 
had no service. On the fourth Sunday an (x^casional local 
preacher or a curate from a neighbouring parish would read 
the lessons and deliver a discourse, which was listened to by 
a congregation small but by no means select. The adult 
male population spent its time in dog-fighting, poaching, 
and pigeon-flying, and made the " Green Man " their head- 
quarters for the transaction of such business as was of a 
general and public character. There was one old midwife 
in the town who presided over the arrival of such infants as 
were so unfortunate as to be born into Garlam. A doctor 
came once a week to a dispensary, where those who were 
ailing had their wants attended to. 

The cesspools were occasionally emptied, but for the 
most part remained reeking with their poisonous filth in the 
midst of the community. The death-rate was high, there 
was no bath or washhouse in the whole village, neither was 
there a library, reading-room, or hospital. Meanwhile the 
Patent White Lead Company divided its twenty per cent., 
and Mr. Faulmann prided himself on jiossessing that com- 
mercial enterprise which is the glory of this free country. 
Conscience, Mr. Faulmann had none ; but a rudiment of a 
conscience might possibly be discerned in the uneasiness 
with which he contemplated the arrival of Her Majesty's 
factory inspector. The appliances for making white lead 
were of the best ; of that he had no fear. He paid to have 
good machinery, and good machinery he had. The fact that 
haunted him was the way in which the inspector would 
speak of his negligence in not supplying the requisites of 
health to his employes. This, however, was not a statutory 
offence. He took care to keep himself strictly within the 
letter of the law, and if a large proportion of the hands 
suffered from lead-poisoning, that was their look-out, not his. 
If they chose to accept the work which he offered, they 
ought not to complain. The consequence was that if the 
Patent White Lead Company paid higher dividends than 
any other white lead company, it also had the worst array of 
miserable and wretched workpeople. 

All this, however, was incidental to the manufacture of 
white lead. If the world needed white lead, a certain 
number of workmen must be poisoned in its production. 

One day, Mr. Faulmann's attention was called very 
sharply by the inspector to his failure to supply what he 
had frequently pointed out was necessary to prevent a 
wholesale excess of mortality. 

" Why," said Mr. Faulmann, somewhat impatiently, " you 
forget that these things cost money." 

" Of course they cost money," said the inspector ; " but if 
you do not supply them they will cost men." 



Faulmann shrugged his shoulders. " If the people do not 
like their work, that is their look out, not mine." Beyond 
that the inspector could get nothing out of him. He reported 
adversely upon the works, roundly condemned the lack of 
sanitary appliances, and went as near accusing Faulmann of 
manslaughter as an inspector could in a report. But the 
reports of factory inspectors are seldom read by the public, 
and if they were there was no means of compelling Faulmann 
to comply with the insi)ec tor's recommendations. 

So things went on, until one fine day an epidemic of 
typhoid fever broke out in the wretched place. Death 
followed death with alarming rapidity. The sanitary 
inspector re^wrted the existence of an epidemic which 
demanded immediate attention. The Rural Sanitary Autho- 
rity sent down a temporary hospital, with a trained nurse 
and an emergency doctor for the purpose of attending to the 
worst cases. The hospital was soon overcrowded, and 
still the epidemic showed no signs of abatement. A special 
committee from the Sanitary Authority with the doctor made a 
special survey of the place and condemned it root and branch. 
The houses were badly built; there was no system of 
main drainage; the whole surface of the subsoil was 
saturated with sewage ; the water supply was tainted ; 
there was no provision made for cleanliness, and, in short, it 
would be difficult to conceive a set of human beings more 
hoj-^lessly doomed to disease and misery than the in- 
habitants of the to^vn of Garlam. Mr. Brassy, as the owner 
of most of the house property, was duly served with notices 
which he calmly disregarded. 

It was to this town when affairs were in this condition 
that Ladv ^^nid made her wav in search of her friend Ethel 
Merribel, who was doing duty at the hospital as nurse. 
After the first excitement of welcome was over. Lady ^nid 
was startled to see the change which had come over her 
Australian acquaintance. In place of the buoyant, buxom, 
healthy girl from whom she had parted but two years before, 
there was a haggard woman, with a weary look in the eyes, 
and an expression about the mouth which told more plainly 
than words could do that she was suffering from a terrible 
overstrain tending to nervous collapse. It was evident that 
Lady ^Enid's visit was a profound relief to her friend. 

" You don't know," she said, " what a pleasure it is to see 
a friendly face again." 

" How long have you been here ? " asked Lady i£nid. 

"I have been here six weeks. It is horrible. It is 
very different in the big hospital in London where I have 
been. There the work is hard, no doubt, but it is shared 
with many, and you feel at any rate that there is sbihe one 
caring for you. Here it is not so; nobody cares — it is a 
God-forsaken place." 

" Does the Company not do anything ? " asked iEnid. 

" Comjmny ! " said the nurse, with a bitter smile, " Com- 
pany ! Much the Company would care if every one in this 
hospital were to die before midnight. Nor would many 
other people care, and some would be very glad." 

" How do you mean ? " said Lady ^nid. " But don't talk 
now. Take your tea, and you can tell me afterwards if you 
like." 

" No," said Ethel, " it is a relief to tell you. The constant 
pressure of want, disease and misery, and — I was going to 
say, sin," she added wearily. " But you don't feel that it is 
sin any more, and that is the worst of it. Vice and crime 
seem to come as naturally to these wretched people as 
breathing, and who can blame them ? It is poisonous — ^the 
atmosphere is poisoned. They are poisoned with lead when 
they work, and when they come out they are poisoned with 
the beer they drink, and poisoned by the foetid miasma which 
rises from the marsh on which they live. Poison and dirt, — 



The Modern Town of Garlam. 



27 



they never esCBpe from them from the hour they are bom 
till they die. How can you expect such people to be other 

than they are 7 " 

Lady ^nid waa seriously alanned at the vehemence with 
which her friend spoke. Ii was evident that the tension was 
proving too much for her, and that if she remained there 
much longer she would collapse, and stand in need of nursing 
as much as any of the patients in the hospital. 

By every means in her power she tried to turn their 
conversation from the vice and misery of these poor people 
to the pleasanter memories of the days in Australia when 
they were girls together. Fitful gleams of pleasure would 
glow upon the nurse's pale cheek, but only for a moment. 
With the regularity of a pendulum her mind would Bwin^ 
back to the ever-present weight of misery, and the gquatid 
horror of the place was never 
absent from her mind. Wlien 
tea was over, La<ly ^^nid iu- 
eisted that they should go out 
for a short walk, lite ia»m 
had risen, and the view fruni 
the hillside on which the hos- 
pital stood was not unpleaning, 
fur the sea stretched right 
before them in the silver nv^jn- 
beams. However hideous n 
man may make the land, the 
eea at least in beyond Jiis [lower. 

" Are there no county 
families," jEnid aske<i, "to 
whom you could ai>i>eal fur 
help?" 

" County families! " said the 
nurse indignantly. "There is 
only one county familv, and it 
is worse than none. You have 
beard, of course, of the Earl of 
Bladud ? I sometimes wonder, 
when I am sitting up at night 
watching by my patient'^, which 
is the greater curse to the 
countryside — the Earl at Sluane 
Hall, or Mr. Faulmann at his 
factory. The Earl is young, 
reckless, drinking himself to 
death, gambhng, spending his 
subetance in riotous hving, ' 
and thinking oniy of his own 
brutal pleasures. On the 
other hand, there ia Mr. Faul- 
niatm, bent on making money, 
as keen in grasping it as 
the other is in spending it, with a result that you can 

"But how does Lord Bladud affect you?" said £nid. 

" Come and see," was the reply. " It is not merely Lord 
Bladud himself, but the servants and keepers at Sloone Hall 
take him as an example, and live as he does to the beat of 
their ability. It is all drinking, and rioting, and worse," 
eaid Ethel. "Come here," 

Lady Moid followed her into the hospital. They stood 
beside a bed on which lay a fair young girl, on whose 
features death had placed bis unearthly seal. Clasped to 
her breast was a miserable, puny child, whose face was 
marked with acars and ghastly running sores. Lady ^nid 
shuddered, ghe had never seen anything like it before. 

" Tell me, what does it mean ? " she asked. 

" That is one of the Earl's babies, marked with his sign- 
manual, they say. It is the thitd of the kind. AU ricketty, 




all rotten from their birth, they cannot, fortunately, live 
long.. ' This one will follow its mother to the grave." 

" But," Kud .£nid, horriSed, " how did he come to have 
anything to do with her ? " 

" They tell me," said the nurse, " it ia impossible to keep 
a pretty girl in the village. They are bom here, I suppose, 
as elsewhere, but there ia nothing to keep them. . There is 
always a demand for pretty housemaids at Sloane Hall, and 
they all go the same way. This one, thank God, is dying. 
She caught the fever and will go even before her baby. The 
other two are now walking the streets of London. Oil, it is 
maddening," said the nurse, " maddening to think of it all 
— what that house might have been to such a i)lace as this, 
and what it is! " 
The door opened. " Oh ! " said the nurse, with a sigh of 
relief, " here is Dr. Gluguul ! 
,- . Dr. Glogoul— Lady jEnid." 

"Delighted to see Lady .ilnid. 
We have met before, nurse. 
But, Lady ^nid, this is no 
pUce for you." 

" I am the best judge of 
that," she replied auily. " But 
how did you come here ? " 

"Come to my room," said 
the doctor, " and we will have 
ft talk." The two girls followed 
hJm to his room. "There is 
no mystery about me," con- 
tinued the doctor. " Mysteries 
do not belong to my profession. 
After I left you I went to 
London to see a friend. I no 
sooner found him than he asked 
me if I were disengaged. ' For,' 
said he, 'my brother, who is 
medico at Garlam, is breaking 
. down with the strain of a fever 
e|)idemic. It would give you 
an experience which you can- 
not get elsewhere. Vou can 
conduct what experiments you 
please, and make what observa- 
tions you like. There are some 
five thousand persons among 
whom the epidemic ia raging, 
and there is no one to looK 
after them excepting my brother, 
who is breaking down, and » 
„ nurse who has broken down. 
You need not be afraid of news- 
paper fellows, because they do 
_ _ of the authorities, for they «re 

miles off. Here is your chance.' So," said Dr. Gl<^ul 
pleasantly, "I came, and I have had a pretty lively time." 

There was something uncanny about the doctor, and 
^nid understood better than before how it was that Ethel 
had described him as worse than a cannibal. 

" But what experiments are you making, doctor ? " 
"Invaluable experiments," said he. "1 am cultivating 
the bacillus of typhoid fever. I have converted this hospital 
into a physiological laboratory. Have you ever been at 
Pasteur's establishment in Paris?" 

"No," said ^nid, "never. la_,that the horrid i)Iace 
where they Tiviaect animals ? " 

Glogoul glanced at her with infinite scorn. " Yes, they 
are reduced to animals at Pasteur's ; here we have humans," 
" You don't mean to say that you are vivisecting men and 
women 1" cried iEnii^ indignantly. 



FBIEXDLY face! 



not go near the phice; n 



28 



The Splendid Paupers. 



" Well, you need not call it vivisection if you do not like. 
I am cultivating the virus of typhoid fever. By starting 
fresh cultures from weakened ones I hope to have it suffi- 
ciently attenuated so as to be able to inoculate every one 
against typhoid fever ; I am almost on the point of success. 
Indeed, in another day or two I shall have arrived at results 
which will justify me in writing a monograph on the subject 
for the Academy of Medicine." 

Ethel here remarked, " Of course, doctor, you only experi- 
ment when you are quite sure it is sufficiently attenuated ? " 

*• My dear nurse," said Dr. Glogoul, " I am surprised that 
any one in your profession should be so ignorant of the first 
condition of experiments, when you know positively there 
is no need for experiment. The other day I inoculated 
five perfectly healthy subjects. It is true that they were 
healthy — that is, healthy at the moment I pricked them — 
but they were not healthy five minutes afterwards; and 
after all it is only a question of time. They took typhoid 
fever in due course, and are going through all its stages." 

Ethel's eyes were dilated with horror. " You don't mean 
to say that you give healthy people typhoid fever merely in 
order to experiment ? " 

" Of course," replied he, " we all do it. What are your 
great London hospitals for but to collect the poor in order 
that they may be used as exjieriments for the bepefit of the 
rich ? Surely you don't need me to tell you that." 

*• But suppose," said Lady iEnid, " any of the jiatients you 
inoculate should die ? " 

" One of them did," said the doctor calmly. " What of 
that ? There is only so much more organic matter retiuced 
to its elements. The death of a thousand such cattle as 
these," said he airily, " cannot be comjiared with the gain 
to science which my discovery will be." 

Ethel Merribel remained quiet, but her fingers worked 
convulsively in her apron. 

" It seems to me," said Lady Mni 1 angrily, " you stand a 
good chance of being hanged as a murderer, I)r. Glogoul." 

** Not nowadays," said he carelessly ; " we are too civilised 
for that. There is a certain risk, of course, but the pioneer 
must often take his life in his hands and be ready to die if 
need be that others mav live." 

" Now, Dr. Glogoul^" said Lady ^nid, " don't talk like 
that. It is odious to hear you talk science ; but when you 
come to cant, it is really more than I can stand." 

** Well, well," said he, " I am now going to inoculate a 
baby with the matter from the infant whose mother is dying." 

Ethel rose without speaking a word, and left the room. 
They could see her through the door go down to the bedside 
of the dying woman. 

" Dr. Glogoul," said Lady ^^nid, " you are not going to 
inoculate a healthy child with the jwison from that infant?" 

" Such is my intention, madam," said he, indift'erently. 

"But you are not going to do any such thing," ^Enid 
replied. 

Somewhat amazed at the tone of quiet decision, he looked 
up. " Why not ? " he asked. 

"Because if you do I shall have you arrested within 
twenty-four hours for attempted murder." 

" Bah, what folly is this ? There is no one here to arrest 
me, and supposing you do bring a constable from Sloane, 
there is no evidence against me. But," said he, changing 
his tone, " if it annoys you, I will not make the experiment 
until you dei>art." 

"Tour word of honour?" said ^nid, looking at him 
intently. 

" 1 will not pursue my experimental researches until you 
have left Garlam." 

• "Thanks," she said. "It is a bargain. I must rejoin 
nurse." 



At her approach Ethel looked up furtively, as if expecting 
to see the doctor. " Don't be alarmed, Ethel dear," Mnia 
said in a whisper. " He has promised he will not do 
anything as long as I am here." 

" Then," said Ethel, " you will stay here until he leaves." 

Lady JEnid pressed her hand, and they remained silent by 
the bedside of the dying woman. Dr. Glogoul made his 
round, left his written instructions and departed. Presently 
the woman began to moan feebly. 

Lady ^Enid knew instinctively that for the first time she 
was in the presence of death. She was awed and silent. 
Ethel, with tne trained habit of a nurse, busied herself with 
little ministrations of tenderness and mercy. 

" Where is he ? " whisj^ered the dying woman under her 
breath. " Why does he not come ? I have waited for him 
so long — oh, so very, very long 1 " 

She s|X)ke brokenly, with pauses between the words. 
Ethel took the wasted .hand in hers and caressed it softly. 

The patient slowly oi^ened her hollow eyes and fixed them 
on the two girls with a half vacant, half puzzled air. 

"Who are you?" she said at last, slowly. "Why are 
you here ? " 

" Taking care of you, dear," said the nurse. " Now, don't 
talk, or you will tire yourself. Come, take a spoonful of 
this ; it will do you good." 

"Tire myself!" said the girl-mother, as she swallowed 
the medicine, with a slightly reproachful accent. " If only 
he would come ! " 

The child lying by her side gave a piteous little moan- 
ing cry — miserable in its weakness. Its mother slowly 
turned her mournful eyes to the puny little bundle of disease 
and j)ain. "He told me nothing would come of it," she 
moaned; "and now he has never come to look after his 
child." 

She was silent ; her eyelids sank heavily upon the long 
underlashes. Lady Enid's eyes filled with tears. The 
little hand of the baby was clutching its mother's ear. Then 
a change came. The girl shuddered and moaned. Then 
she opened her eyes almost with a jerk, and tried to 
speak. 

"You have not come!" she said, "not yet. And it is 
too late — now. But — but not here! Yonder! Do you 

hear ? " she gasped. " You must meet me there, and ^ 

her strength flickered, her voice failed, and ceas^. 

Lady ^nid thought all was over, and was rising. Ethel 
restrained her with a look. The. dying woman heaved a 
long, slow breath ; the closed eyes opened heavily, the thin 
lips quivered. And the watchers by the death-bed heard 
her mutter : 

"And soon!" 

A slight tremor passed over the body, the breathing 
ceased. Her great hollow eyes stared impassively into 
vacancy. The womr.n was dead. 

The two girls slowly made their way to the matron's 
room. Hardly had they shut the door than Ethel dropped 
into a chair and buried her head in her hands. She swayed 
her body to and fro, saying nothing. 

" Ethel dear," said iEnid, " bear up. It is better so." 

Ethel looked up. " I am not thinking about her, 1 am not 
thinking about her. Yes, it is better so. But the others. 
There seems to be such an endless succession. How long 
will that bed be empty ? It will be filled almost before we 
have had time to lay out the corpse of its last occupant. I 
cannot stand it. It is not as if it were unavoidable. Three- 
fourths of the misery which I have seen since I came here 
has been distinctly due to two men — Lord Il^adud on the one 
hand, and Mr. Faulmann on the other. When I sit up at 
night listening to the moaning of these pegJle, or when I go 
out to the village and try to do somethin^Tor the miserable 



/ 



The Modern Town of Garlam. 



29 



victimH of lead poUoniog, I koow that it is due to the 
determinatian of the company to have twenty jier cant, 
rather than to be content with fifteen, I feel aa if I ware 
l!tiin2 mad. I know huw Charlotte Corday felt when she 
kill^ Marat." 

Lady ^n id put her Land upon her friend's lips, "Hushl" 
she Raid. " Do not speak liglitly of murder." 

" Murder ! " said Ethel, "Murder I What do you mean by 
talking of murder ? Who is murdering — who has murdered 
ihkt girl whose dsath-bed we have just left? Who has 
murdered all those who are dying in the village at the pre- 
sent moment 7 Murder ! Do you call it murder, that swift 
death by shining steel, or Bwifi«r buUet that klUn iMitdes-ily 
and at once ? And do you 
not call it murder when 
death is delayed by long 
drawn-out torture? No, 
.Enid, no. Let us call 
things by their right 

" My dear Ethel," said 
.^aid firmly, "you will 
never be able to get 
through your work if you 
give way like this." 

"My work has cot 
through me," said Ethel 
grimly. " It is no u«e 
working any more. What 
ii the use of my patching 
up the wrecka of bodies, 
when those two men are 
allowed to shatter them 
wholesale ? You say my 
nerves are giving way— it 
is no wonder. Do you 
know what I see night 
after ni^ht in the darkness 
when I lie in my bed 
trying to sleep, and beitig 
imable to get these dread- 
ful thoughts from my 
mind ? People talk of 
haunted houses and of 
ghosts of the dead, but 
what are they to the 
ghosts of the living ? Yes, 
there are two ghosta, 
horrible as demons, whicit 
never leave this place. 
Oh 1 " said she, and her 
fingers began to work con- with 

vulsively, "can you not 

see them? Look! by the aide of that dead woman whom 
we have just left there is the phantom form of Loni 
Bladud ! He stands there and he laughs, and then buries 
.... oh, horror!" cried the almost frenzied girl, pointing 
in the direction of the death-bed. " Do you see what he is 

" No," said jEoid, " I see nothing." 

" You are blind," said Ethel savagely. "He is burying 
his teeth in her bosom. He is eating, eating hie way to her 
heart ! Oh, the foul vampire that Tie is ! Now he stands 
up — his mouth is all frothing with bli;od. Oh, Lady JEniA '. 
Lady -Enid! " she cried, "help me, help me, 1 am going 

"My dear Ethel," said /Enid firmly, "you certainly will 
go mad if you do not allow me to put you to bed and give 
you a seda'iire." 




" Sedatives are no good. I have tried them all. It is no 
use, no use. That loathly vampire stands there with his 
bloody jaws, but even he is not so bad as the other one. 
The other one never leaves the place. Lord Bladud only 
comes sometimes, but the other one ia always here. Do you 
not hear him ? " asked the girl. She raised herself upon the 
bed where Lady .£nid had Uld her. " Do you not hear him ? 
Hark how he goes from tied to bed." 

" No," said .^nid, " the place is perfectly etiU. There is 
only the ticking of the clock on the mantelinece." 

" You say that," Ethel cried. "You say that to deceive 
me, but you cannot. You must see what he is doing." 
" No," said Lady iEnid ; "whatwit?" 

" He is going from bed 
to bed, and at each he 
stops and listens ; and 
when the patient moans 
he Brailes, and when they 
writhe in psin he laughs 
and rubs bin hands. For 
why?— oh, for why?" she 
said. " Do you know for 
why ? Because every pang 
they suffer means gold — 
yellow gold — in his purse ! 
It is full of the souls of 
miserable men, who have 
died that he might be rich. 
Oh, the little children! Do 
you hear them crying. 
Lady .^nid ? I do — cry- 
ing through the night for 
their father who will never 
come back to them any 
more, and for their mother 
who is in the cold, cold 
grave because of that 
man's greed ! It would 
have coat so little," she 
said piteously — " so little I 
Only to eii^ the well a 
little higher up the hilt. 
It would not have cost 
him one per cent., but he 
would not do it. ' And now 
he is coming here — he is 
coming to me to take away 
my reason, and make me 
as the others! Oh, help. 
Lady .£nid! help!" she 
cried, and then, sbudder- 
■""" ' ing convulsively, fell back 

in a dead faint. 
Lady MniA hastily summoned the servant in attendance, 
and together they succeeded in putting Kthel Merribel to bed, 
and prepared a sedative which they administered to her as 
soon as she came to herself again. 
" What will you do ? " asked the servant. 
"I will remain with her through the night," 
And Lady jEnid remained not only for that night, but 
for many days and many nighte, nursing the nurse back 
into life, and helping as Iwst she could in the adminis- 
tration of the hospital. The Duchess, without wishing 
to appear to sanction such unorthodox procedure, thought 
it wisdom not to challenge opi>ositioQ from her self- 
willed niece, and confined herself to acquainting Lady 
Belsover with .lEnid's latest whim, and to sending her 
such necessities and small comforts as the occasion 
demanded. 



A HEALTBT CHILD 



A Birthday Party at the " Radical Arms. 



»> 



31 



CHAPTER VIII. 

A BIRTHDAY PABTY AT THE " BADICAL ABl^.** 

Q) DMUND WILKES' knee recovered slowly. He chafed 
^j» bitterly against the enforced inaction. It was irnpo»- 
^^ Bible for the liadical. campaign to begin until he 
had at least two legs to Htand u]x>a. At preseut he 
had only one, and the doctor warned him that if he 
attempted to address », meeting he would be lamed for the 
rest of his natural life. His irritation was increased when 
he heard froth correspondents in all parts of Blankshire that 
Lord Bul«trode*8 party was preparmg for the campaign. 
Not that any meeting had been held, but Primrose Dames 
had been seen flitting about mysteriously. In many 
IHirishes there bad ' been heard sermons against spoliation 
and sacrilege, which to the rustics who heard^them seemed to 
have no practical meaning beyond an exhortation to vote 
for Lord Bulstrode, although, of course, his lordsliip's name 
was never mentioned. 

Sociable by nature, and accustomed to meet men and 
women of his own age, and to be in the midst of the life 
and mpvement of the day, he found it terribly dull being 
cooped up in the best room of the " Radical Anns," with no 
one to speak to with the exception of an occasional Radical 
committee man who would look in to tell him how things 
were going j and as they were not usually going his way, 
these visitors tended rather to aggravate than to alle- 
viate his irritation. His acquaintance with the minister, 
Ebetnezer Brown, ripened into something like friendship, and • 
Hopton looked in every evening; but still Wilkes felt very 
lonely. As his birthday was approaching he, in sheer 
despair, wrote to two or three of his friends in town to a^^k 
them to come down and cheer him in his loneliness at the 
** Radical Arms." ** Come down," he wr«)te, "I beseech you, 
and have compassion ui)on my solitude, and let the ligiit of 
your countenance shine once more u^xiu the afflicted prisoner, 
Edmund Wilkes." 

In re^)ont6 to that appeal, three or four of his old 
college friends came down from London and spent his birth- 
day with him in Rigby. There was Sir Artogal Haddon, a 
Conservative of the Conservatives, but absolutely free from 
prejudice or bigotry.. As to the old order, he saw they were 
changing, and giving place to a new and not by any means 
a* better order. But, even if the cliange were advantageous, 
it would be all the better if it were not rushed, he thought. 
He defended all the superstitions and prejudices of his class, 
not because he believed in them, but because it seemeii to him 
they were temporarily useful in retarding what he regarded 
as the hothouse growth of Radical nostriuns. With 
him came Dick Milman, otie of the bright and, shining 
lights of Ballioi, whose friends were quite sure that he would 
be Prime Minister some day> or if not Prime Minister, then 
Viceroy of India, or Archbishop of Canterbuty, or anyt^iing 
else he choae^ to desire. For Dick had been born under a 
lucky ttaTf 'and whether he devoted himself to journalism, 
finance, or Jto administration, it was all the same. An unseen 
power deemed to thrust him forward from behind, landing 
him at the top of the tree before his rivals had reached the 
first branch.- He was a man of detached mind. Secluded 
by his position from active partieanship, yet he was closely 
linked both by personal and- social ties with lea<lers on both 
sides. He e$w as much of the game of ]X)litics as most 
men, and judged them with the impartiality of one w^ho is 
without atid the knowledge of one who is within. 

An<^er old crony of Wilkes' was a man of a very 
different stamp. It would be somewhat difficult to locate 
precisely the political position of Mr. Rawton Silvertongue, 
He was the most cosmopolitan of the group. Bom heir to 
an Irish estate, he speedily discovered that it would yield 



him but a miserable subsistence ; so, without abandoning 
his ancestral acres, he applied himself with the courage and 
resource of an Elizabethan adventurer to build up a fortune 
for himself. In this quest he had travelled much and far. 
He had owned cattle by the hundred thousand in the 
great Western ranches, and then when they were smitten 
by the drought he transferred himself with equal facility 
to the Court of Seringai)atam, where he occupied for a. 
time the position of confidential adviser to the Maharajah. 
Wearying of the limitations of the feudatory prince, he 
returned to the Western world, and spent his time between 
Washington and London. No Englishman was so Versed 
in all the intrigues of the lobby at Washington, or more 
familiar with fdl the ins - and outs of the political and 
financial world in London. After trying many modes of 
diversion he finally came to the conclusion that you got 
more sport for your money in hunting the currency hare 
than by any other pursuit known to mankind. Mr. Silver- 
tongue therefore became the impassioned advocate and 
ai)ostle o( bimetallism, in which he saw the only hope of 
unregenerate man. He delighted to haunt the salons of the 
great in or<ler to whisper in the ears of his hosts waminga 
of the revolution and disaster which awaited them if they 
refused to remonetise silver. 

One day he >vould indite an article in one of the monthly 
reviews, proving irrefutably, from a survey of the history of 
the world, that civilisation had only one hinge, and that 
hinge was the ratio of silver to gold. Another night, he 
would be dining with a Rothschild, describing to the financial 
magnate how his house in Piccadilly would someday be sur- 
rounded by a howling mob, while he, Mr. Silvertongue, would 
endeavour to pacify the crowd by handing out all the plate. 
A third time he would be addressing a Chamber of 
(A)nimerce, and setting forth the fact that the insatiate 
devotion of the white man to the yellow money would lead 
to the transfer of the industrial supremacy of the world to 
the yellow man with the w^hite money. 

With these three came a young peer, who had just 
succeede<l to a heavily mortgaged and encumbered estate — a. 
man full of generous illusions, resourceful, open-minded, 
well-informed, and resolute to carry out whatever seemed to 
him to be the duties of his jxjsition. 

Such were the four comj)anions whom Edmund Wilkfesi 
gathereii round him at the " Radical Arms," in order to^ 
celebrate his birthday. Very pleasant was their talk, and 
many the reminiscences of college and other days which 
they indulged during dinner;, but it was not until the 
cigarettes were produced and they fell to smoking, that they - 
began to talk seriously of politics. Of course, they began 
with a speculation as to the result of the coming Genera)* 
Election. 

"Oh, we shall lose of course," said Wilkes, "outside' 
Blankshire I mean," he added, smiling. " You fellows have, 
the game all in your own hands." 

"I am not so sure of that," said Sir Artegal. " Never 
prophesy unless you know is a good rule at all times, and an 
especially good rule when you are dealing with that very 
dark horse, the British public. No one knows what an 
hour may bring forth. That is one of the charms of politics. 
You are always face to face with the inscrutable." 

** I don't know," said Milman, " the one thing certain is 
that the outs always win a General Election. Parties have 
their turn in office, just as two elevens have alternate innings 
in the cricket field." 

"But sometimes," said Sir Artegal, " you have to ' follow 
on ' in cricket." 

" Sometimes," said Milman. " But in politics it happens so 
seldom that it does not count. I should say the betting was 
five to one for a Conservative majority at the coming election.** 



32 



The Splendid Paupers. 



" Ten to one, I should say,'* said Silvertongue, " since the 
glamour of Lord Rosebery has been dissipated and Ladas 
has lost the St. Leger.'* 

" Well," said Sir Artegal, " I have known Lord Rosebery 
since he was a schoolboy. He is shrewd, resourceful, 
reserved. He is by no means a heaven-sent statesman; 
but neither is he the idiot which our side is attempting 
to make him out to be. He has a very difficult game to 
play, and is playing it much more adroitly than any of his 
censors could do if they were in his place. But they are 
overdoing it, and the next thing will be that, before we 
know where we are, he will once more be a heaven-sent 
statesman as he was when he first became Prime Minister." 

" I have been very much disappointed in him," said Lord 
Eastwell. ** We had hoped he would have come out strongly 
on the Imperial line." 

"And," interrupted Wilkes sarcastically, "wrecked his 
Government before it had been a week old. What would 
you have thought of him then? Surely Mr. Gladstone's 
experience in 1886 should have cured Liberal leaders of the 
desire to execute curves with too great a rapidity. The 
situation does not call for heroics of that kind ; indeed, it 
very seldom does, excepting when the Forum gapes for your 
Quintus Curtius, and it might gape until the day of judgment 
before Lord Rosebery would leap into it." 

" There you are wrong," said Sir Artegal. " He is quite 
capable of doing that, if only because he has gained 
everything which he can exi)ect to obtain. Remember — 

Worse than adversity that befell. 
He felt the fuluess of satiety. 

" Do you think he has achieved everything ? " said Dick 
Milman. " I should say that he had only found the tools 
with which he could do anything. Here is the British 
Empire practically waiting reconstruction. Never had a 
statesman a greater chance. To speak of him having 
achieved everything merely because he has in his possession 
that which will enable him to achieve everything, seems to me 
to be absurd. But a truce to this endless discussion about Lord 
Rosebery, which always ends in the discovery that he is a 
darker horse than we imagined. What are you going to do 
in Blankshire ? " 

" Gret my knee better first," said Wilkes, " and then make 
it as lively as I can for the Duke." 

" What particular strip of Liberalism do you affect ? " said 
Lord Eastwell. 

"Oh," said Wilkes, "I would be an Independent Labour 
candidate if I had ever done a stroke of work in my life, 
which I haven't, and I am not quite capable of masquerading 
as a working-man." 

" The scruple does you honour," said Milman, laughing. 
** It does not seem to trouble some gentlemen with whom 
you are in the habit of colleaguing." 

" You see," said Wilkes, " I am a Socialist and a Democrat. . 
I do not care a straw for the present Gt)vernment of mono- 
polists and of landowners and large employers of labour. 
It is a Government composed of the natural enemies of the 
working-man. If we can only threaten them enough, we 
shall succeed in making them give us some unwilling con- 
cessions which we shall accept as instalments. But nothing 
will content us except the nationalisation of all means of 
production, commencing with the land." 

Lord Eastwell pricked up his ears. "Really, why 
beginning with the land ? " 

" The land," said Wilkes, " is the source of all wealth. All 
private ownership in land is usurpation, and the sooner it 
ceases the better." 

"Stuff" and nonsense!" said Silvertongue. "What the 
mischief do you want to nationalise the land for ? Look at 



my little property in Ireland. How much in the last ten 
years do you think I have drawn from my patrimonial 
estate ? Why, not a red cent. The whole of the rent paid 
by the tenants was swallowed up in the administration of 
the estate, and this year I have just had to send them a 
cheque for £500 to balance accounts. Precious little profit 
the State would get out of Ballymecarry if it were nation- 
alised." 

" Oh, well, Irish land, you know," said Wilkes, " is 
different." 

"Different," said Lord Eastwell, "chiefly because the 
agricultural depression is less felt in Ireland than it is in 
England. In Ireland you can get rent; in England you 
cannot." 

" What do you mean ? ** said Wilkes. " What do you say 
to the rent-roll of the Duke of Eastland, the Duke of 
Northumberland, and others who might be named ? " 

" I mean this," said Lord Eastwell hotly — " if you take 
the southern and eastern counties of England, with which I 
am better acquainted, you will find that purely agricultural 
land has no rental value at all. In short, agricultural land 
in England at this present moment has sunk to prairie 
value." 

" I see ! " said Wilkes sarcastically. " And what about the 
rent-rolls of the country, which, judging from statistics, do 
not seem to have fallen oft' very materially ? " 

" I don't know about your statistics," said Lord Eastwell, 
" but this I will say — if you take any estate in these eastern 
counties, and go into matters carefully, you will find that 
what is nominally called rent is nothing less than interest 
on capital— outlay by the landlord. You cannot strike at 
that without striking at investments of every kind." 

" Oh, that is what is always said," replied Wilkes airily. 

" It is true," retorted Lord Eastwell. " Who is going to 
sink money in rebuilding a farmstead or draining a bog, if 
the whole of his money is to be airily wiped out by you 
Radical fellows because it happens to be invested in laid V " 

" But," said Sir Artegal, " without discussing the morality 
of the question, will you explain to me how it is that any one 
is going to invest capital in land in the future, if it is once 
laid down that the only kind of capital which is entitled to 
no protection is capital invested in land ? " 

" Excepting capital invested in strong drink ; that is 
also outlawed without benefit of clergy," interrupted 
Silvertongue. 

"Oh," said Wilkes, "why talk like that? People will 
be keen enough to invest money in their own holdings when 
the great estates are broken up and the whole country is 
covered with peasant proprietors." 

" Hum," said Lord Eastwell, " perhaps you have not had 
so much experience in dealing with peasants, or the labourers 
whom you are proposing to convert into peasants, as some 
of us. Take myself, for instance. I have done my best to 
develop small holdings on my estates. I have done this, not 
l)ecause of philanthropy, but because I think the landed 
interest has followed a suicidal policy in destroying those 
who ought to have been its most effective supporters. We 
certainly should not have had Free Trade, which is ruinins 
us, if, instead of a few landowners, the whole country had 
been covered with small proprietors. If you doubt that, 
look at France. What is the invariable rule whenever I 
grant an allotment ? I have always to advance the money. 
I have to drain the land or to fence it or to put up buildings. 
I do this, and do it gladly ; but if you are to go through the 
county preaching the doctrine that capital invested in land 
is to bear no interest, you put the knife to the throat of all 
improvements." 

"Now," said Silvertongue, "if you want to nationalise 
something, why don't you begin with a businfiss that pays? 



A Birthday Party at the " Radical Arms." 



33 



Why not nationalise railways, or banks, or pawnbrokers, or 
anything rather than the only industry in the country which 
is stricken to death by the fiscal system which you have 
deliberately adopted ? ^ 

" Yes," said Lord Eastwell, " and what is more, there seems 
to be no bottom to it. The fall in prices in agricultural 
produce alone this year represents a loss of twelve miUions 
sterling to the British farmer." 

" But look at the countryside,** said Silvertongue. " Look 
at Kent, to say nothing of Blankshire here. They are all 
Htudded with empty houses, which stand like sepulchres of 
the deceased landed interest. Where are the owners ? They 
cannot make Ian i i>ay, and do you think the State will ? " 

" That is all very well," said Wilkes. " These owners, 
where are they, and why are their houses shut up ? Simply 
because they have outrun the constable. The agricultural 
depression is responsible no doubt to some extent, but the agri- 
cultural depression has much less to do with the reduction of 
our landed aristocracy to their present impecunious jX)Hition 
th&n the reckless expenditure which was the result of sense- 
less emulation. For one country house which has been 
shut tip- because rents have fallen, you will find two which 
have been closed because their owners spent SOs. for every 
twenty they received. The fact is that the struggle of the 
l>eer8 to outdo the plutocracy in expenditure has tinishe«l the 
ruin which the democratic movement of our time brought to 
their order. Beaten from one stronghold after another by 
successive reform billn, they entrenche<l themselves at last in 
their social position. They would still flaunt it with the 
best. Then the new men came in, and just as the Radicals 
hail ousted them from a monopcjly of the representation 
of the House of Commons, so the breweps, the bankers, and 
the millionaires from across the seas have ousted them 
from that position of social pre-eminence which is due to 
the expenditure of money. As one of their number said 
recently, the pace was set by the nouueaux riches ; and the 
landed nobles, instead of taking refuge in a proud but 
honourable poverty, eagerly accepted the challenge, and have 
gone under, exhausted by their own folly and extravagance. 
And England is now studded from end to end with the 
castles of splendid paupers." 

" And supposing all this is true," said Sir Artegal — " and 
no one can deny that there is much truth in it— why should 
you select this broken interest, weighed down with mort- 
gages and hopelessly crippled with debt, as that of all others 
which you propose first to nationalise ? " 

" They have had their day," said Wilkes, " and must now 
make room for men who will bring business instincts to the 
management of their estates." 

" Commercial instincts, you mean," said Milman ; " and I 
wish you joy of the exchange. The old aristocrat may 
havd been a fool — no doubt he often was — but so far as the 
people in the midst of whom he lived are concerned, they 
will find the new plutocrat will chastise them with scorpions, 
whereas the old noble but scourged them with whips." 

** What I don't see," said Lord Eastwell, " is where you 
are gt»ing to get the margin with which to carry on. You 
talk about allotments, but if you had had any experience 
with land at all you would know that only a fractional part 
of the land is capable of being cultivated as allotments." 

"Oh," said Wilkeg, " what we propose to do is to constitute 
a commission in every county, whicli will be empowered to 
ascertain how much land there is that is available for allot- 
ments, and then proceed to divide it up." 

"And how do you expect," said Lord Eastwell, smihng, 
"to cultivate the remaintier? For the land which can he 
cultivated as allotments constitutes what we farmers would 
call the 'eyes' of our farms. Only the other day I let a 
farm which had been lying vacant for two years, and I was 



only able to do so by adding to it a field, without which, the 
tenant declared, it would be impossible to make it my. lu 
a few days my labourers came to me and asked that they 
might have that field for allotments. But if I divided that 
thirty acres among them as allotments, I should have three 
hundred acres thrown on my hands without a tenant. They 
saw how the land laj^ %nd did not press their application. 
You will find in Edaiikshire, and elsewhere," he added, 
" that while the labourer is anxious to have a garden, he 
will not say, * Thank you * for a small farm." 

" I am of the same opinion," said Sir Artegal, " as the 
late Lord Derby, who used always to put this ridiile, which 
no one seems to have answered : Who is it wants land in 
this country ? Here, in Blankshire, we have 20,000 acres 
of land lying derelict, which will not pay rates and taxes. 
There seems to be no land-hunger in Blankshire now. In 
Ireland, yes; in the North of Scotland, yes; but here — no. 
So far from hungering and thirsting after land, it seems to 
me |)eople will not have land as a gift." 

" Try," said Wilkes, savagely. " See what a paradox it is. 
Look at Holland. The Dutch, one of the most thrifty 
l)eople in the .world, are beginning to pump the Zuyder Zee 
dry, si)endiug £12,000,000 sterling on that transaction. 
Why ? To reclaim from the ocean depths, as it were, some 
100,<X>0 acres of lan<l. Here we have farms which are drained, 
fenceti, with roads and farmsteads, near to the greatest 
market in the world, and you cannot find any one to take 
them ! Is it jx»ssible to frame a more terrible indictment of 
the system under which this is possible?" 

" You may indict the system as much as you please, but 
that does not affect the faor," said Lord Eastwell, " that you 
cannot get people to cultivate the lau<l. The system which 
renders it imix">ssible is not the system of which you- 
complain. The system which is really to blame is that by 
which you crush the land by a ruinous burden of local 
taxation, and at the same time keep your markets open for 
India and Australia t«j un«iersell all that your land produces. 
That is the system which is ruining English agriculture, not 
the lan<led interest which is vour brte noire,^ 

"Tell me, Wilkes," said Dick Milman, "do you really 
doubt that English agricultural land at [^resent is a drug iu 
the market?" 

Under the present system, of course." 
Never mind about the present system," continued 
Milman. " Will you believe me when I say that one of the 
most prominent i^eers in the country said to me only the 
other day, * If any one were to offer me as a free gift 
agricultural land with a nominal rental of £100,000 a year,. 
I would refuse it. It would cost me more than £100,000 to 
keep the estate up.* He illustrated this by telling me a 
fact in his own experience. * My estate,' he said, * in 
Buckinghamshire, has a nominal rental of £12,000 a year. 
Supposing you reckon that to keep up the house and 
grounds cost £3,000 a year, I ought then to have a rental of 
£9,000. But- how much do you think I got last year? 
£6,000, £3,000, £1,000? No, instead of receiving anything, 
I had to send a cheque for £6,000 to meet the deficit on that 
estate.*" 

"But we all know cases like that," said Silvertongue, 
" I could mention nobleman after nobleman who this year 
has received nothing, and has to face a reduction of the 
November rents." 

" I have never been able to see," said Sir Artegal, " why 
you should object to land going out of cultivation in Elngland. 
If wheat can be grown more cheaply in India, why should 
you lament that land in Blankshire, which is only capable of 
growing wheat, should have gone out of cultivation ? From 
the point of view of Free Trade it is very illogical." 

"So it is," said Silvertongue. "But even your most 

D 



u 



u 



34 



The Splendid Paupers. 



veiiement Free Trader knows that men do not live by bread 
alone^ aad no healthy State can exi^t which has all its 
])opulation crowded in great cities, and no human reserve in 
the country to renew tlye vigour of its ixjpulation." • 
* " Oh, but you are not a Free Trader, Silvertbngue," said 
Sir Artegal. 

" Yes I am, up to a point," said Silvertongue, " and every 
one is — up to a point. Take the Cobden Club for instance ; 
it would not be in favour of Allowing the land to go derelict 
if it knew that we should have war with Franccf next 
year/* ^ ' 

** Your argument ix)ints then," said Milman, " rather to 
the rehef of the land than to an increaise of the burdens u|x>n 
it, whereas Wilkes, I understand, is anxious to tax the land- 
lord out of existence." 

" Precisely," said Wilkes ; " we have begun with the death 
duties and we shall more and more saddle the land with the 
whole cost of local administration." 

" And yet," said Sir Artegal, " the landlord is the only 
capitalist in the country who corresix>nds in any way to 
your socialist ideal." 

" How do you make that out ?" asked Wilkes. 

" He receives the smallest interest upon his investments to 
b3gin with, and of the projwrtion which he does receive he 
returns to the general community a far greater pru^xjrtion 
than any of those who are engaged in trade or who 
liave money in Consols." 

" I will give you a case in point," said Milman. " I know 
two brothers — two of my uncles, in fact —who, fifty years 
ago, came iiito possession of £100,000 upon tlieir father's 
death. The elder brother took his £100,000 in the shape of 
the family seat, which yieldeii him, after paying cost of 
administration, about £3,000 a year. My other uncle had 
his £100,000 in Consols. This was fifty years ago. The 
uncle who had the estate has lived on it ever since. He 
was a frugal man, and was able to keep his expenditure 
down to about £2,000 a year. The other thousand he 
devoted, year by year, to the improvement of the estate. It 
was his ambition to have his labourers well housed ; to 
have a good water supply for the villages; to furnish 
them with reading-n)oms, and generally to make the life 
of the labourers pn his e^^tate as happy as ix>ssible. Out 
<)f the £2,000 a year which he allowed for living exj>enses, 
he contributed at least £200 to schools and churches apd 
local institutions. Besides this, his park, which is not 
very large, but is very beautiful, with a fine herd of deer, 
was as much at the service of the public as any' of the royal 
|>arks in the neighbourhood of London. His house was the 
centre of all effort* for the improvement of the condition of 
the people, and was the common meeting-place for rich and 
])oor in the country-side. Now, after fifty years, my uncle 
i-i an old man of seventy. The fall in the value of produce 
has brought down his net rent-roll from £3,000 to £1,500 a 
year, which is only three per cent, on the £50,000 he has 
invested, in the estate since he came into its ix)ssession. 
That is to say, the whole of his £100,000 is wii)ed out, 
and he is living upon the interest of his savings. 

" Contrast this with my other uncle. He put his £100,000 
in Consols and lived in a house in Kensington, sjiending 
abiiut £2,000 a year. His money came to him punctually 
every quarter-day. He had no resjK)nsibility for its 
collection, nor did he feel any j)ersonal. obligation towards 
those who jiaid him his income. Living in Kensington,' he 
hid no local responsibilities. He was neither a Justice of 
tiie Peace, nor a member of the Quarter Sessions, "nor an 
ex'officio Guardian. His time, like his money, was his oW^n. 
He was not expecteil to subscribe to schoc»ls, churches or 
charities, and all the other local institutions which tell so 
heavily upon the purse of the landlurd. Instead of being 



rated, as his brother was, upon the full value of £3,000 a 
year, he i>aid rates upon his house rent, which was not more 
than £500 a y6ar. For ^very penny one i>aid in rates the 
other paid a j^illing. .At the ^nd of fifty years this uncle 
has a secure fortune of. £150,000 in Consols, with no 
encumbrances, no obligations. He has spent twice as much 
upon himself, and hasbiit given one- tenth the amount uf 
thought to his neighbours t)iat the other brother has done. 
Yet accohiing to your scheme of the universe, Wilkes, it 
seeins fhat the one who ought to be held up to execration as 
a tyrant, and whose proi)erty should be confiscated, is the one 
who owns laud, while you do nothing at all with the man 
who owns Consols." 

"Oh, yes, we do; wc ])ropose to get at that gentleman 
through the death duties," said Wilkes. 

"Yes, you have begun to try your hand in that direction, 
but even then you have hit the landowner as hard as you 
have the other man ; and the worst of it is that the land- 
owner cannot run away, and the other man can. Did you 
ever hear the story of Mr. Jones of New York?" 

" No," said Wilkes ; " what is it ? " 

"The other day he )!roi)osed to Lord Rothschild that he 
should take the custody of securities valued at £800,000, 
and collect the interest on them without deducting the 
income-tax, which had been collected by the Bank of 
England. Kothschild replied that as long as Jones 
remained in this country and enjoyed the protection of its 
laws he must })ay the income-tax like other people. Where- 
upon Jones in great dudgeon withdrew his securities 
from the Bank of England and from Rothschild, and 
transferred thiem to Paris, where, up to this time, they 
have not attempted to levy income-tax upon non-French 
subjects." 

" The scoundrel ! " said Wilkes. " We shall have to tar 
and feather some of these millionaires before we hare done 
with them." 

" I wish you joy of your task," said Silvertongue. 

" C<>me," said Sir Artegal, " it is getting late, and we must 
break up now. I think we have i)retty well arrived at an 
agreement of what mav be called the fundamental facts of 
the controversy. Firstly, agricultural land in the East and 
S(Hith of England is at the present moment valueless ; there- 
fore it is the proi)erty of all others which should be taken 
over by the nation. Secondly, the landlord differs from the 
fundholder in recognising personal obligations of neighbour- 
hood and jjervice to those whose labour earns the interest ou 
his investments ; therefore the landlord must be hunted 
down as a monster. Thirdly, as English land with the 
present rates and taxes cannot be made to pay, even when 
ample capital is placed at the disposal of the agriculturist, 
therefore let us hand it over to the men who have no capital 
and no skill, and let us saddle it still more with increased 
rates and taxes." 

. " Well, you cannot expect me to accept that as a fair 
sumniing up of our conclusions," said Wilkes. " I should rather 
say that what we have agreed upon is that the existing 
landed system has hopelessly broken down, that land which 
in every well-governed country is a source of profit and is 
eagerly competed for, has in England, under the present 
management, become a drug in the market. Therefore the 
tiiii.e has come to change all that, to abolish the old system, 
and raise up another on its ruins which will give the virtual 
owrierrthip of the land to " 

Lord East well interrupted. " To men without exjierience, 
without capital, and with neither the buildings, the imple- 
ments, nor the skill with which to cultivate the land." 

"Come, come," said Milman, " you will only get vexed if 
you carry on like this. Good-night, Wilkes, and good luck 
to your candidature, despite all your heresies 1 " 



Exit '.Lord Bladud. 



s35 




CHAPTER IX. 

EXIT LORD BLADUD. 

THEL MERRIBEL'S illness was more serious than 
Ji)Did at first imagined, when, in the flush of friendly 
sympathy, she undcJrtook ti) rdieve-her, thinking 
^ that in the morning she would be well again. In the 
morning .Ethel was far from w^; "When she tried to get 
u^) she'fell back faint and helpless, and uttered a despairing 
littlb groan which brought Lady i£uid to her side at once. 
*• What can I do ? " she moaned — " what can I do ? 1 am 
so Weal^ I cannot move ! *' 

** Never mind," said Lady ^Enid ; " lie still for a time, 
and^ytJu wi'l soon be better. We will get a nurse down to 
relieve' vou." -> 

" Yes," said Ethel dreamily ; " but in the meantime — in 
the meantime, what will become of them? There is so 
inuch to do, and you have no help." 

Lady ^'Enid, for the first time confronted by the sterner 
duties of hfe, rose unhesitatingly to the occasion. " Ethel," 
«he said firmly, ** lie still. It is simply a caw of utter nervous 
collapse with you. 1 will stay here until the new nurse 
comes. In the meantime you must be quiet and rest." 

When Dr. Glogoul came in the morning. Lady J^Inid 
toM him with brief iiecemptoriness what had hap])ened. 
■" Now," she said, *' you have promised on your honour that 
there will be no experiments on the patients while I am in 
charge. Although I sliall be here longer than I expected 
when you gave me the promise, that does not matter." 

The doctor boweil. "Certainly, Lady ^nid. Having 
promised, I keep my word ; but it is a positive sin to allow 
auch a beautiful chance to pass. With that lone oqihan I 
could have inoculated half the village." 

** No," said ^Enid, " even if there had been no other 
objection, you have come too late. The little thing die<l 
last night within an hour of its mother. They will Ixith bo 
buried to day in one coffin." 

"But, Lady ^nid," he said, " what are you going to do? " 

" I am going to telegraph to the Sanitary Authority to send 
down a nurse. Until she comes I hope you will regard me 
as acting in Mis« MerribePs place. 1 know I have no exi)e- 
rience," she said, somewhat pathetically,*** but ^ Ethel will 
^ve me general instructions, and if you will tell me exactly 
vhat to do I will carry out your directions implicitly." 

Dr, Glogoul was touched by the appeal for help made by 
this strong, self-reliant young woman, and he made light <>f 
difficulties which would^ othervnBe have seemed to kim 
almost in8amM)untable. 

" You may rely upon me, .madam," said he, " neither to 
vivisect my patients nor to neglect the instruction of their 
Bune. I hope," said he, with a little laugh, **that the 
Tirtue of the latter part of the promise will atone for the sin 
of the fonner. For a doctor to neglect to practise expcfri- 
ments upon his patients is to be false to the first duty he 
owes to medical science." 

•* I know nothing of science," said ..Enid simply. " But 
there must be no vivisection while I am here ; and now \\*ill 
vou take me round and tell me exactlv what to do." 

So matters were arranged, and Lady ^Enid took charge 
vf the temporary hospital at Garlam. It was not found so 
•easy a matter to provide a substitute for Ethel Me^^ibe^. 
The Rural Sanitary Authority was slow to realise that their 
nurse had broken down, and adjourned the question till tlie 
next meeting of the Board. Meanwhile Lady ^nid became 
iuore and more engrossed in the work of the hospital. 

** Ethel dear," she said one night, when sitting by the 
1)edside of her friend, ** you have no idea how interestiftg I 
find this nursing. I think there is a great deal of the 
hunter in my blood. From the time of the Conquest down 



to the Repeal of the Corn LaNfrfl, the Ynale Belsovers at least 
haVe spent a third of their life in the pursuit of game. 
When such a habit is |)ervsisiteji in for centuries, the taste 
seems to be wrought into your very bones, and you get to 
look at everything more or less from the point of view of the 
hunter." 

** Really," said Ethel, somewhat drowt^ily, .** I do not 
understand what you are driving at." <•••,• 

** Well," said Lady .Enid, ** 1 feel as if you and I and 
Dr. Glogoul were three hunters stalking wild beasts. All 
the diseases of our patients present themselves to me as 
A^olves and bears and tigers and other carnivorous beasts. 
They are prowling all around us, wsitching -for an oppor- 
tunity to strike us down, while we, on our part^-a^e con- 
stantly endeavquring to drive them away from- the prey 
which they liave already seized. How tamd deerstalking 
seems to me beside fever-stalking I It is wh^t cub-hunting 
irt to tiger-shooting. .This hospital sport becomes all- 
engrossing. It possesses every element of rbmanc^. There 
is ))ersonal danger, there is thfe need for constant vigilance, 
and there is the great rewaid of possible succe8s.|t I feel as 
proud i)f every patient who goes out of the hospital (Jured as 
my father did when he brought in the great felk's head 
which he had shot in the Far \\'est." ' • • : 

** Yes," said Ethel, fairly rousetl, her eyes glistening with 
excitement, ** I have never quite looked at it in the light of 
a hunt. I dare say you will get mere spc rt out of it Sian I 
shoultl. But I also visualise diseases. To mcithey- seem to 
be unclean spirits, and, as I go round the ward at night 
when everything is silent, save the moan of a patient or 
the muttering of the delirii)us, I see the diseases, like shadowy 
si)ectral vampires, draining the life blood of the poor people or 
stifiing their breath. Twenty beds in a ward, ajad every 
hed occupied ; in every betl beside evey patiotit there are 
these loathsome things. Ah ! how I have often longed for 
the power of some ancient saint, by which I would' make the 
sign of the cross, ^nd com^)el all these phantoms to flee 
away and leave their victims at rest. But charms don't work 
nowadays. It is a life and death combat betweea us and 
these lowers of evil. That text* has oft^n come to my tired 
brain while I have been lying here helpless : * For we wrestle 
not with flesh and blocd, but against principalities and 
powers, against 'the rulers of darkness of this world, against 
spiritual wickedness in high ]>laces.* " 

** Oh," said iEnid cheerily^ in her practical matter-of-fact 
way, ** I am not mystical likeyou, but it is a constant exhilara- 
tion to regard this Garkm as a kind of Indian jungle full of 
all kinds of fierce beasts which we are stalking, Dr. Glogoul 
and I. Sometimes they get the better of us, but oftener we 
get the better of them. And what tricks they pla^r, these 
maladies. I declare they are as cunning as the cleverest old 
dog-fox that ever baffled the hounds In the hunting-field." 

** I never can understand the difference," said Ethel, 
** which you make between the spiritual and the material 
Wi>r]d. I supi)ose it is l>ecause you don^t see the things 
which I see. They are all real to me ; and it is not the so- 
called invisible which are the worst. By the way," said 
she, ** did you hear whether the Earl of Bladud took any 
notice of the death of his little child and its mother?** 

** Not the least," said ^Enid. ** I got Dr. Glogoul to write 
to Sloaue Hall and Te\x)rl the death of the girl and her child, 
but no notice was taken of the letter." 

*' I suppose," said Ethel, ** he is having one of his drinking 
bouts, or possibly enough he may be in London. Not that 
he would care, anyhow. It is he and Mr. Faulmann who 
seem to me to be so much worse than all the diseases which 
we have to keep at bay. They seem to dwell in the 
hospital, the lortls of the unclean spirits who torture and 
slay according to their sovereign will and pleasure." 




The Splexdid Paupers. 



P 

IP 



Lord Biiwiud?- said .Em.l. 

him in Uvsb unil blool, and pray God 

not the kind of man any wojnan ivuuld 



The lUy afWr 

Itiiis converBsiioR 

Tlthel Lad te- 

Bovered guifici- 

fnid taking a 
toupie <if houn 
"elief from nurs- 
.^ ~ had been 
vre«k in the 
Mj^Utl without 
having had n 
breath nf fresh air, 
and the confine- 
jnt and uu- 
lUitomed work 
tuld upon her 
isiderably. Rhe 
looking a 
Utile haggard, «o 
I the evening 
lUel iu8i«ted 
her taking 
iang run on ber 
sycle in the 
■nlight. SatlB- 
■ ■ the 




«leetHTig quietly, 
and that her friend 
well enough 
to stand twif hnum' 
Igil, Lady .£aid 
iimted her cycle 
' rode ofT itilo 
country. 
Down in the 
llaiiie ahe could 
the light* •■( 
"Green Man," 
the duor of 
■bich BKHie luafera 

itaniljog, but with that exceplionthestreets of the little 
vere deserted. The inuoa was bright, the road fairly 
.d, and diera wa? no wind. Very soon. Lady .Enid had 
the iquahd little town behind her, aud waa ru»hint( alung 
Koan the high hedges which lined either side of the n.«d, 
whose shadowB niarbleil Ibe m'lonUght on the ground 
■re her wheel. Lwly ,Enid went in tbe direction of 
lefon). determined to have a ride of about twenty milex, 
PreBently ahe saw the lights <if Sluace aivay in 



lie we*l. Tbe gas-Iampo on the out«kirts of the town 
>l>[<«are<l like piu-Tioles vf light against the darkneM. She 
ben turneil to ibe north, along Uie main road, which led to 
il»noe Uall. .She Klaokened her [Mce and was dreamily 
wiiilliug along, thinking of the strange experiences of the 
Isxt fortnight, 

suddenly sfarUed 
by tbe sound of 
horse*' hoofs not 
far behind her. 

Looking back 
along the road rhe 
saw four or five 
men fi>lluw)ug at 

They were apM- 
reutly market- 
merry, or woree, 
for they were 
"touting and 

laiigliing loudly. 
It was — altboueh 
Lady jGoid did 
not kuow till Bome 
time after — Lord 
Blndud and Rome 
of his boon com- 
(laniona, who hail 
been out hunting, 
and having diovd 
and wined ai 
tkJeford, were now 
returning tuStoane 
Hall, fur a nM>- 
ment £nid felt 
the awkwardueas 
•>f her position. 
[Icre ahe vw. 

L'PuniT road^ U 
was almost uiid- 
uigiit, and withiu 
a hundred yanbi 
of bor waa a pany 
of druukm bnnv- 

djAtance tUem by 
her superior «|««d. 
Siie silotltljr in- 
trcas^ her Moe, 
oiling lo ^UL n 
tni in tha ruoik 
cfore they ni- 
iced her, ill 
'hich CAM abe 
juld eaaily out- 
uiatance ihein, 
as they were only ooming along a'- a trot. 

Unfortunately, the raoon was sbliung very brightly, to a 
cloudless *ky. The foremost horseman spied her, abdgavD 
vent to a wild yelL "Tally-ho!" he shouted, "Tally-ho!" 
and spurring up his bort« he came gnlhiping riown the rcwl, 
fnllriwed by his companions, shouting druuk~n cuTMts is 
they came thundering behind her. Laiiy .%nid wDt Iter 
cycle forging ahead at its utmost speil. Fortunately, after 
two or thrtfd hucdred yards the rtMut began to deecend, and 




38 



The Splendid Paupers. 



d-opped by a i retty steep dec^.ine into the valley below. 
The road was clear and free from hxise stones. Down such 
a hill a bicyclist can go at a rate which no prudent horseman 
can follow. Lady ^Enid, without i>ausing for a moment, 
dashed down the hiU. 

By the time she had reached the bottom of it she 
had gained a clear lea«l of several hundred yards. Kested 
by the momentary relief from constant peilalling, she shot 
forwani witli renewed vigour. But it was evident that her 
pursuers found the chase of a flying cyclist quite as 
exciting as a fox-hunt. As soon as they reached the level 
ground they began to pain ujwn her. One of the men, mrmnted 
on a light chestnut, led the others by at least a couple of 
hundred yards. His horse was either fresher or its rider 
was not 80 drunk as his com])aiiions. 

Nearer and nearer he came to the flying girl. 

"She had a moment's horrible consciousness that he wouM 
r'.dje her down, and then she suddenly became i)erfectly calm. 
ShiB was flyipg along- the "level road with the horse hardly 
a length behind her. The rider swerved slightly to the right 
to pass her and then comi)el her to stop. Stooping down, 
Lady j^nid unfastened the clasps of her air-punij), an<l 
the moment the horse's head came level with the seat, she 
struck the animal with all her force across tlie nose. As 
she struck she almost reele<l over, but the speed with which 
her cycle was going enabled her to regain her balance Ixsfore 
she dashed into the ditch on the other side of the road. As 
she did so she saw that her blow had succeeded bjyond her 
hopes. 

The horse, on receiving the blow, had shied violently to 
the right, falling into a deep ditch and throwing its rider 
into a mass of briars and brambles, from which, with 
imprecations deep and loud, he was endeavouring to 
extricate himself. She had only time for a momentary 
glcmce, as the other horsemen, i raying no att-ention to the 
mishap of their companion, came gallojnng after her. She 
had dropjwd her air-pump in tlie effort to recover her 
balance, and was now without that resource. 

Although they gained upon her, it was but slowly, and 
ju(^ng from the sound of the hoofs one had abandoned the 
chi^. The third horseman, she thought^ must have gone 
back to the aid of his dismounted commnion. The second 
horseman, too, began to lag behind. Not even the excite- 
ment of the chase could prevent her from feeling that her 
strength was giving out, and the labouring of her breath 
watned her that if the struggle between horse and cyclist 
were prolonged much longer she would be at the mercy of 
her pursuer. Hot as she was, a cold shudder came over her 
as she thought of this eventuality, and of all that it might 
mean. 

Suddenly she saw a man ahead. Another glance, and she 
saw he was carrying a red flag, a sign that he was preceding 
a traction-engine, to give warning to approaching vehicles. 
The puffing of the engine was heai^ round the turn 
of the road, which was boniered on either side with sloping 
banks. For a moment she thought of stopping and appealing 
to the man with the red flag for help, but at the rate at 
which she was going she could not hope to dismount until 
she was carried considerably beyond him, and her pursuer 
would by that time have her in his grasp, regardless 
of what any dismounted man might attempt in the way 
of rescue. 

So she went on with a kind of wild despair. The man with 
the red flag waved it frantically, and shouted, but neither 
she nor her pursuer paid any attention. On they went, the 
bicycle about twenty yards in front of the hunter. As 
Jiady ^uid swung round the comer she saw the lights of 
the traction-engine which a]>]^rently blocked up the whole 
of the road. More by instinct than by calculation, she 



Rwerve«l to the left, and attem]>ted to force her way between 
the sloping bank and the wheel of the engine. 

She ])assed the front wheel all right by riding through 
the little ditch at the side of the road. But to pass the 
second wheel she had to mount the side of the slope. It 
was a des])erate chance, for as the cycle rose on the bank it 
was almost certain to fall. Still, there was no other way of 
escape, and she dashed at it. The petial revolved once, 
twice, and carried her just jiast the engine. Then the front 
wheel slip]ied, her pedal caught in a briar, and Lady ^nid 
hail barely time to 8]iring from her machine before it fell 
heavily into a ditch. 

All this happened in a much shorter time than it taken to 
descril)e it. She pulled the machine from the ditch, and in 
the mad passion to escape mounted and rode ofif without a 
moment's ^Muse. Her machine was damaged, but on, on, she 
went. 

She rode more than a mile along the road before it 
occurreil to her that there was no longer any pursuit. She 
coidd neither hear the clatter of horses' feet nor the 
snorting of the traction-engine. But still she rode on, and 
it was not until she had covered another three or four milen 
that she discovereci that she had punctured her hind wheel, 
and that almost all the air had escaped. She had lost her 
air-pump, and so there was nothing for it but to get ofif and 
walk the remainder of the way to Garlam. Fortunately it 
was not very far distant. She could see the glimmering of 
the light on the lightship which lay off Garlam three or four 
miles ahead. 

It was almost two o'clock when she arrived at the hospital. 
By that time she had recovered from her fright and from her 
exhaustion. She was able to reassure £thel, who had been 
very anxious at the excessive prolongation of the midnight 
ride, with the explanation of the punctured tyre and the lost 
air-pump, which were sufficient to account for her delay. 
She easily persuaded Ethel Merribel to go to bed, and 
resumed her post as night nurse. 

About the same time that she resumed her duties at the 
hospital, two men were carrying on an improvised stretcher 
the mangled remains of the Earl of Bladud up the 
avenue which led to Sloane Hall. Ix>rd Bladua had 
been drinking heavily, and being moreover somewhat 
heavier than his companions, he had fallen behind in 
the race with the cyclist. But when his companion had 
l)een flung, he took the lead in the race with the dogged 
pertinacity of his character, and was steadily and speedily 
overhauling his flying game when the traction-engine 
blocketl the way. He was too keen in pursuit of his prey 
to draw rein, even if he had been aware of his danger, which 
he was not. H^nce he galloped full speed round the curve, 
and his horse, on seeing the lamps of the traction-engine, 
halted so suddenly that the Earl was flung from his saddle 
right under the wheel of the lumbering monster. The 
driver shut off the steam and reversed the engine, but it waft 
impossible to bring it to a standstill before the heavy wheel 
had crushed Lord Bladud's skull level with the road. It 
was all over in a moment. Ix>rd Bladud's horse galloped 
rideriess homeward. As for Lord Bladud himself, he ahso 
had gone to his own place. 

CHAPTER X. 

THE RADICAL CAMPAIGN. 

Ifik OW it fell out upon a day, the very day after the 

pl bhthday-party at the "Radical Arms," that a 

'" ^ mustering of discontents took place at the Temperance 

Hotel, where the worthy Brassy held council with 

his cronies about the prospects of the election. 



The Radical Campaign. 



39 



" I Jun't like it," wU Brasay ; " my suspicion is that we fire 
l«ing solil. Wilten, they saiil, waa Ihe man for our money. 
WilkeH, they said, would go ai far as any of ii« ; but, con- 
fuuDi) it, he iB a stuck-up eoob who will hardly speak to ao 
honest working-man like me." 

" Why," said Bob Greeuacren, whose features were 
picturesquely decorated with a long strip of plaster, covering 
a K^^h be had received recently in a poaching affray, 
"thou'rt gettinz mighty pertickler, old man. This 'erj 
Wilkes bo as thorough as they make 'em, and my coudn 
who works in the printing-house where they are striking off 
his address, says its real stingo and no mistake. He makes 
'em sit up, he do." 

"Oh, writing's one thing," said Brassy, "but doing's 
another. We don't want any of your blooming snobs coming 
round here hobnobbing with duchesscK, and then staodiDg as 
a regular Democrat. It won't 
do, boys — it won't do." 

" What do you mean ?" 
anked Bill Dawkins, who was 
sitting on the table, filling a 
very dirty pipe with twist 
tobacco. " Who's been hol>- 
nobbing with duchesses? 1 
don't believe it on him, no, 
not if vou say it yourtcif, 
Joe Brassy." 

"Don't you," said Brassy; 
" and what would you say if 
no later ttiau_ last night ihii 
precious Bad leal candiilate <.•( 
ours had a birthday party at 
the 'Radical Arms'; and who 
do Tou think he invited ? 
Why, a set of aristocrats 
from the West-end of Lon- 
don, that snirelling |>eer, Loni 
Eastwell, being the chief of 
the •party." 

Bill Dawk ins seemed to 
admit that this looked ugly, 

" But a lord ain't a duchess,"' 
said Qreenacres; "you don't 
mean to say he has been up 
at Eastland? That would be 

" Why," said Braasy, with 
a maJiguant Bcowl on his ''^^ RADICa 

unprapoeaeesing features, " I 

don't lay he has been at Eastland, but T do say on 
unimpeachable authority that this 'ere blessed Radical 
candidate of ours actually arrived in this 'ere town of Bigby 
in a castle carriage." 

" That he didn't," swd Dawkins, 
I aeed him mesel' getting out of an 

" Which ii true," said another, 
having a pat at the ber when I seed him l>eing carried 
in. It was a cab, 1 tell you— Jim Ostler's cab; for when 
Jim had got his fare he came and joined me in another 

" And who says no," said Brassy. " I didn't say 
that he came to the ' Radical Arms ' in n castle car- 
riage. No^ a conspirator and a traitor don't jilay such 
a game so openly. But now as you have mentioned 
Jim Ostler, I will tell you that it was Jim himself 
who law Wilkes get cut of the carriage which set him 
down at the cabstand at the entraiice of the town. 



II and auk 




"for I y 



I downstairs 



and if ye doubt my word, Dawkin-^, y 
yer friend." 

After this Dawkins ventured no further ))roteBt, and 
Brassy had it all his own way, " We are in for it, how- 
ever," he said, "and we have to fight uith this here Wilkes 
or with nobody; but he's not a gatueeock, he's a craven. 
I'll put none of my money on iiim, anyhow. It will 
surprise me if at Ihe meeting to-morrow night, which is to 
0|«n the campaign, he will say so much a-i a but word about 
his friends at the castle. However, we will all turn up and 
draw our own conclusions." 

The Radical cami>aign was to be uiwned the foUowing 
evening by a large meeting in the town hall of Rigby. Tbe 
word had been passed round by Mr. Wirham among the 
Conservatives that on no account was any attempt t« be 
made to break up the meeting. That sagacious agent 
had not been in Bigby many 
hours before he discove.ed 
that the true policy was to 
lie low, and allow the hetero- 
geneous forces of discontent 
to deve'op their differeuces 
free from all menace from 

Mr. Wilkes was in blissfal 
ijiiiorance of the niutterings of 
diiKouteut at the Brassy head- 
quarters. He had drawn up 
an electoral address which, a^ 
Ureenacres had described, was 
"real stingo." In it he had 
rung the changes upon all the 
levies of Radical oratory. It 
was an impasuoned appeal it> 
the milhous to rise up in their 
might and ixwsess themselves 
of the acres now monopolised 
by aristocrats whose title- 
deeds, obtained by fraud and 
violence, were besmeared with 
the people's blood. The ad- 
dress concluded with a glow- 
ing picture of tbe time that 
was coming, when the landed 
aristocracy would have van- 
ish eil into limbo, and the 
whole country would be 
covered with small cultiva- 
tors, under whose spades the 
derelict laud of Blankahire 
would bloom as a garden and blossom a* the rose. 

Wilkes, who had penned this address with great care, 
regarded it with the affection of a mother for her first-born. 
He was particularly pleased with the reference to the derebct 
farms. He stole out in the evening and joined as an un- 
known stranger a group of Rigby citizens who were studying 
the address as it was displayed outside the "Radical Arms." 
They read it without much comment beyond an occasional 

f;runt; but when they came to the end, a rough-looking 
abourer somewhat disconcerted Wilkes by observing, " If 
that chap had a try with a spade on the clay lands of 
Blankshire, he wouldn't be so ghb with his gardens and 
roses, I reckon, eh. Bill?" 

Bill had not quite finished the perusal of the address, ami 

made no answer. \\'ben he had finiuhed he turned on his 

heel and said, "Aye, but you eaji't e.ipect townfulk to know 

aught about land." 

This was not very comforting. 

Wilkes's satisfaction was still further damped the following 



CASDIDATE. 



40 



The Splendid Paupers. 



morning by receiving a brief, business-like letter, which ran 
as follows : — 

Dear Sir, — I have read your address to the electors of Blank- 
shire. I am at the present moment the unfortunate owner of 
several of the derelict farms to which you refer with bo much 
feeling. As I take you to be a mun of your word and to 
believe what you say, I would very gladly offer you one of 
these farms as a free ^ift. You can have one hundred, two 
hundred, or three hundred acres, as j'ou please. All that I 
ask is that you will pay me the present cash value of the farm 
buildings and other improvements, in which I have sunk a 
pretty penny in the last thirty years. I shall be very glad to 
show you the laud at any time, and if you have among your 
friendU any labourers whom you think can be trusted to turn 
any of these farms into a garden by spade cultute, the land is 
at your disposal, free gratis and for nothing. 

The letter was signed by one of the smaller landowners iu 
the neighbourhood. When Hopton, who was completing the 
arrangements for the evening meeting, and who had taken a 
day off for the purix)se, looked in, Wilkes was reading the 
letter for the second time. He threw it over to Hopton and 
asked him what he thought of it. Hopton read it, and 
then said, " Don't you wish you might get it ! They must 
think that you are verv green." 

" Why ? " asked Wilkes. 

" Why, to think that any sane man would take a farm as 
a free gift if he had to pay for the buildings. Why, there 
is hardly a farm in Blankshire that is ])aying interest on 
landlord's capital sunk in buildings or improvements — hardly 
one. Well, I never," continued he, " but he must think 
townpeople are very green." 

Wilkes said no more, but asked what were' the prospects 
for the meeting. 

" 1 know," said Hopton, " there will be no opposition, so 
you will have it all your own way to-night. But " 

" But, what ? " said Wilkes, looking at him. 

"Well, I hardly like mentioning it, but as you have 
asked me, I will tell you. Some of my friends have been 
talking rather curiously about your being an aristocrat in 
disguise.** 

" Really," said Wilkes, somewhat interested to know on 
what the accusation was based. 

" Well," said Hopton hesitatingly, " that you have 
been dining with lords and driving in carriages with 
duchesses." 

Wilkes smiled, and Hopton went on, "And they say, 
moreover, that the orders which have been given from the 
Conservative Club not to disturb the meeting are a clear 
proof they are right in their suspicions. The Radicals of 
Wgby have never been allowed to hold a meeting without 
broken heads. There must be a reason, some of our ])eople 
are saying, that they should have made an exception in 
your favour." 

" What drivelling nonsense ! " said the young man. " But 
we will let them see." 

"1 hope so," said Hopton cheerfully, and departed to 
complete the arrangements for the meeting. 

It went off very well. The Conservatives had obeyed orders 
from headquarters. W^ilkes made a very good impression. Ho 
was young, eloquent, earnest, enthusiastic, and at the close of 
the meeting a vote accepting him as the Radical candidate 
was passed with acclamation. But after the meeting was 
over Brassy observed significantly to Greenacres as they 
walked down to the Temperance Hotel (where more beer 
was drunk than in many a beershop) : " Didn't I tell you ? 
Never a word against the Duke, not a single word, only 
compliments, as if we wanted a Radical candidate to come 
liere and compliment Tory dukes. He soon showed the 
cioven hoof." 



"Why," said Greenacres, "I thought his speech had a 
good ring in it. No one said a word agin 'im." 

" Greenacres," said Brassy, " thou'rt a fool. Who was to 
say a word against him ? But mark my words, he won't be 
a week in the field before there will be a split in the camp." 
Saying which, Brassy turned into his notel, meditating 
moodily over the disap^x^intment of his hopes. WTiat vexed 
him most of all were not the compliments to the Duke, 
which it must be admitted were of the most perfunctory 
nature, but the ferocious attack which the candidate had 
made upon the owners of slum property. Brassy had not 
bargained, for this, and he saw with disgust, from the cheers 
which greeted this jwrtion of the candidate's speech, the 
beginning of an agitation which boded him no good. 

Wilkes was in high spirits. Hopton, to whom the success 
of the meeting was largely due, was also very well satisfied ; 
and the minister, when he retired to his room that night fur 
prayer, thanked God with exultant heart that at last a young 
David had been raised up to smite with sling and stone the 
Groliath of landlordism. The campaign which had been 
opened at Rigby was to be prosecuted at Coleford, which 
was the centre of the division, by a meeting to be held in 
the Corn Exchange. It was to be presided over by Mr. 
Faulmann, the president of the Liberal Association, who 
had been unavoidably prevented from taking the chair at 
the Rigby meeting. 

W^ilkes, who was accompanied by Hopton, Brown, and a 
contingent of Rigby Radicals, dined before the meeting with 
Mr. Faulmann at the " Boar's Head." Among the members of 
the Radical executive Wilkes saw Brassy, but i^ored him. 
When he shook hands with Mr. Faulmann his heart some- 
what sank within him. He was in the presence of a man 
of great force of character, with keen dark eyes which 
seemed never to be at rest. There was the soul of a Jew 
behind the mask of the Teuton — a powerful combination, 
Wilkes thought. But there was in his somewhat passive 
and sphinxlike features a negative element which chilled 
and repelled him. His hand was cold, and there was no 
grasp in it. In conversation at dinner Wilkes found him 
somewhat reserved, but apparently well informed as to the 
business of the association. His utterances were cold but 
clear, and no one could have been more devoid of enthu- 
siasm. Wilkes felt an instinctive repugnance to the chair- 
man of his committee, and kept marvelling at the strange 
chance which had brought him into close poUtical alliance 
with one towards whom he was utterly antipathetic. 

The meeting in the Com Exchange was crowded a|id 
enthusiastic. The same tactics were employed by the 
Conservatives at Coleford as had been used at Rigby. 
There was a great muster of all the Radical elements in 
Blankshire. Conspicuous on the platform was the Rev. 
Jedediah Jones, the Methodist tuh-thumper whose invec- 
tives against the Earl of Bladud had be^n mentioned by 
Mr. Holdem. There were several Dissenting ministers, a 
great muster of trade unionists and of agricultural labourers, 
several Radical shopkeepers, and a lar^e contingent of ladies. 
On the whole, it was a good gathermg of the elements of 
revolt which exist more or less in every English county, 
and seeing that the division had never been contested in the 
present generation, it is not surprising that the mere novelty 
of the gathering brought together a large and interested 
crowd. 

As the crowd was gathering at the doors of the Com 
Exchange, a rumour ran from mouth to mouth that there 
had been c terrible accident, and that the Earl of Bladud 
had been killed. No details were given, but the news was 
confidently repeated. The death of a leading opponent 
added a certain tragic interest to the assembly. The news, 
however, had not l^n published^ and apparently no whisper 



The Radical Campaign. 



41 



of It had reached the platform, for when the Rev. Jedediah 
Jones opened the meeting with prayer he did not omit a 
single syllable of his impassioned appeal to the Lord of 
Hosts to avenge the innocent and to smite the oppressor, 
which all his hearers knew had reference to the evil earl of 
Sloane Hall. 

A suppressed hush ran through one part of the hall, but it 
]3as8ed unnoticed, and Mr. Faulmann arose amid prolonged 
cheering to introduce the candidate. 

He spoke with precision and with a slightly foreign accent. 
He said they in Blankshire had groaned long under the 
dominion of the territorial aristocracy. Under their baneful 
rule the bread of the people had been taxed, the liberties of 
the people had been confiscated, and under the influence of 
the same upas tree the prosperity of the county was languish- 
ing. The land must be freed. They were there to 
inaugurate a struggle for the rights of man, to assert the 
obligations of property, and to declare that where these 
obligations had been neglected and ignored, the rights of 
property were forfeit to the sovereign people. 

Mr. Brassy, who acted as fugleman, cheered and cheered 
again this declaration of war against the Duke. 

Mr. Faulmann then proceeded to introduce the candidate 
to those whom before long he hoped would be his constitu- 
ents. He said he was a young man, but a true man, whose 
})nnciples could be relied upon, and who would go straight 
for the people wherever their interests led him. 

When Mr. Wilkes rose to speak, and looked down upon 
the crowded meeting, which had risen to its feet, and was 
cheering him vociferously, he suddenly caught sight of a 
familiar face which startled him not a little. It was that of 
a young lady who was sitting almost immediately in front 
of him, and who was contemplating the scene with an 
amused interest. He recognised the face in a moment, but 
could not remember its owner. It was not until he had 
gone through the first sentences of his speech that it flashed 
upon him that it was the cycUst who had rewarded him for 
saving her hfe by spraining his knee, and whose subsequent 
kindly' offices had given rise to an incipient revolt among 
the Radicals of Rigby. He felt pleased that she should 
have come to his meeting, and the consciousness of her 
])resence inspired him to put forth all his powers. " She 
shall see," he thought to himself, ** that although I am a 
Radical and a Sociahst, I can be a gentleman, and treat my 
opponents with as much chivalry as if I had belonged to 
their own order." 

Accordingly, he began his speech by disclaiming any 
intention of making a personal attack upon the territorial 
magnates whose domain ne had invaded as the representa- 
tive of the people's rights. There were landlords and 
landlords. They were men of like passions with themselves, 
and he had not come to the county to carry on a campaign 
of personalities. Brassy nudged Dawkins (who was sitting 
next to him) in the ribs, but said nothing. 

** In the county of Blankshire," Wilkes continued, " they 
had the Duke of Eastland, an honourable and upright 
nobleman " — " Did I not tell you ? " growled Bi-assy — " who 
was bearing to the best of his ability, and discharging 
according to his hghts, the onerous responsibiUties which he 
had inherited from his forefathers. Of the other peer, the 
Karl of Bladud, he could hardly speak in similar terms, 
but '' 

At this moment, a tall, gaunt countryman, who was. 
standing beside one of the pillars in the centre of he hall, 
exclainied, "Young man, say no ill of the dead ; Lord Bladud 
died last night." 

A profound sensation thrilled the crowded audience, not 



one-third of which had heard the nmiour of Lord Bladud's 
death. 

Mr. Wilkes abruptly stop})ed, and said, " I had not heard 
the news, but it only adds another reason to those which I 
was about to mention as to why I should keep silent con- 
cerning the deceased earl." 

Having thus, in his most courtly manner, shaken hands with 
his opponents on entering the political ring, he proceeded to 
show fight in the approved style. Possessed of a viWd imagina- 
tion, Mr. Wilkes warmed up the audience, which for years 
had never heard the existing system roughly handled, except 
with bated breath and whispering humbleness. Even Bill 
Dawkins plucked up courage to whisper to Brassy that 
" He's agoin* it, isn't he ? " to which the only response was 
a growl. 

He devoted the greater part of his speech to a denimciation 
of the landed system and of the ascendency of the territorial 
magnates. He merely referred in a few sentences to such 
|X)litical issues as Home Rule, Employers' Liability, and the 
Welsh Church, all of which he seemed to think were only 
of importance as they helped out the indictment of the 
Lords. But when he came to the exordium, he declared 
that his candidature was no personal matter, — it was a means 
by which the great democracy was going to break down the 
system which had so long cursed the land in order to 
establish on the ruins of an effete social system the social 
millennium. 

"Remember," he said, in warning tones, "that our 
fues are many and strong. If we had merely to deal with 
the mediaeval and bankrupt peers who are perishing, 
stifled by the mortgages incurred by their extravagance, 
and smothered by the unpaid bills of their unfortunate 
tradesmen, we could win the battle almost without a fight. 
But behind the battered and broken ranks of landlordism we 
can see rallying already to their support the serried legions 
of plutocracy. Behind the peer stands the sweater ; behind 
the landlord, whose broad acres are lying desolate as the 
result of the banishment of the people from the soil, 
stand the owners of slum property, the jerry-builders, and all 
the unclean crew who are heaping up wealth by poisoning 
the life and ruining the health of the people." 

It was now Dawkins's turn to nudge Brassy in the ribs. 
" One for thee, old man, I reckon ! " said he. 

" Hold your mouth," said Brassy savagely. " Did I not 
tell you he was a traitor in the camp ! " 

" Nay, but he speaks true," said Dawkins. 

Mr. Wilkes' peroration, which brought down the house in 
a tumult of applause, was an impassioned invitation to all 
the oppressed and down-trodden people to rally roimd the 
standard of liberty and reform and follow his lead against 
the enemies of the people. "I am not rich or famous, 
neither do I own a single acre in this country. I have 
nothing to offer you but the devotion of a heart and a life 
that is dedicated to the service of the people. Far before 
us gleam the camp fires of the vanguard of the hosts of 
liberty ; I follow wheTS they lead. They are already on the 
point of triumphing (tutet the broken and helpless forces of 
those splendid paupers, our territorial peers; but the real 
struggle of the future will be with the cruel and grasping 
hordes of that capitalism which ruthlessly exploits the labour 
of those who fill its coffers, and is alreiady rearing a mort 
hateful tyranny upon the ruins of the territorial aristocracy. 
In that struggle you may at least depend upon me not 
to falter, not to flinch. Whoever goes back," said he 
proudly, " I at least press on ! " 

When he sat down, and Ms audience had also resumed 
their seats, among all the confused crowd of faces around 
him he distinguished only two. One was that of Lady 
JEInid, who seemed to be earned away by the enthusiasm ^i^ 



42. 



The Splendid Paupers. 



the roeetiog. The other was that of his chairmim, who, 
somehow or other, did not seem particularly happy. 

One or two other speeches followed, and then the chairman 
said, ** I am told that there is some one here who can give 
us some information concerning the sudden death of Lord 
Bladud. As we are all near neighbours and interested in 
the news, will he come forward and tell the meeting what 
he knows ? " 

A stimiy, stout little man came forward w^ith difficulty 
through the crowd and mounted the platform. He was 
evidently labouring under the influence of deep feeling. As 
he passed on to the platform, Lady ^Euid thought she had 
seen the face before; but the impression w^as vague, and 
she could not connect it with any definite time or place. 

She had come over to Coleford with Ethel Merribel. The 
relief nurse had arrived, and Lady Muiii had driven Ethel 
over to Coleford on her way home. When her friend had 
been carefully put to bed at the " Boar's Head," Lady iEnid, 
finding that Wilkes had to speak at the Corn Exchange, and 
that this afforded her an opportunity of hearing him speak 
without being recognised herself, she had joined the crowd, 
and found herself seated immediately in front of the i)lat- 
form, where Mr. Wilkes had seen her as soon as he rose to 
speak. She had no idea as to the tragic sequel of her 
adventurous midnight ride, nor had she the least idea as to 
who they were who had hunted her so savagely a few hours 
before. The whole incident was to her more like a night- 
mare memory than an actual occurrence. It was only when 
the man began to speak that she suddenly linked on her 
own experience with the story which he told. 

" I am no scholar, and not much of a speaker," said the 
man, as soon as he was hoisted upon the platform ; " but so 
be as the chairman asks me to tell what I know, I will do 
my best. It was last night, in bright moonlight, that I and 
my mate that drives the traction-engine was coming along 
the main road through the cutting which lies between Sloane 
Hall and Garlam." 

Lady Mnid started, and in a moment remembered where 
she had seen the man. He was the man who had waved the 
red flag in order to announce the approach of the engine. 

" We were coming along," the man continued, " at our 
usual pace, when suddenly I see a bright light coming down 
the road as swift as lightnins, and behind I hears the clatter 
of horses' hoofs and some shouting. I waved my flag and 
shouted, but before I had time to say two words the light 
flashed by me, and a bicyclist passed me riding as for dear 
life. He was by me in a flash and round the comer, and 
how he got past the engine I don't know. My mate saw 
the light for a moment as if it was climbing up the hill, 
then it vanished, and we have never* seen it since. After 
the bicyclist, galloping as hard as a hunter after a fox, 
came the Earl of Bladud on his grey mare. He was 
swearing and cussing and spurring his horse like mad. 
He took no mpre notice of me than if I hadn't been there. 
He dashed past, and in a moment he was right upon the 
engine. The horse gave the most awfullest shy that I ever 
seed in my life. I heard the Earl shout * Damnation I' quite 
loud, and he fell heavily on the ground, right in front of 
the wheel. My mate shut off steam and reversed engine, 
but it was too late. I heard a sickening noise as if a cart- 
wheel was crunching a rotten turnip. I turned sick-hke, 
and sat down on the roadside. We found that the engine- 
wheel had just stopped at Ihe shoulders ; there was no head 
left, only a mass ol blood and brains, all mixed up with hair. 
He was quite dead. Afterwards some of his friends came 
up, and we carried the body to Sloane Hall, where it lies 
now. It was not our fault. Neither me nor Jim could have 
done more than what we did." 
. The Hian then sat down on a chair, took a drink of water^ 



and buried hii!» face in his hands. There was a profound 
silence throughout the hall. Lady ^Enid was breathing 
hard, clenching her hands, almost overcome by the sudden 
and horrible tragedy in which she had played so prominent 
a ])art. 

Then, suddenly, the silence was broken by a long-drawn- 
out cry, half moan, half an exclamation of exultant joy. The 
sound came from a woman plainly dressed, with strongly 
marked features, who seemed to be as it were in a trance. 
Her lips were moving, but there was no sound beyond the 
first exclamation. She swayed silently to and fro, and then 
rising to her full height — and she was very tall — she cried 
out, " Lord, now lettest thou Thy servant depart in peace, 
for mine eyes have seen the coming of the vengeance of the 
Lord." A shudder of horror passed through the meeting, 
which, however, sjieedily died away as the tall form sank 
back insensible \i\ym her chair. 

** Good God ! " said Wilkes to his neighbour, " what a 
horrid thing, to exult over such a death I " 

"Perhaps," said his neighbour, in an unsympathetic whisper 
^"jierhaps if your sister had leen walking the streets of 
London, as Deborah Jinks's sister is, through the dead Earl's 
devil rv, vou would understand." 



CHAPTER XL 

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 

1(8^ EXT morning, while waiting for breakfast, Mr. Wilkes 
ly \Yas turning over the pages of the hotel register, when 
* ^ bin attention was struck by the name of Miss Ethel 
Merribel. 

" What, Ethel -my cousin Ethel ! " he said. " What in the 
name of wonder has brought her to this part of the world ? 
I thought she was nursing in a Londoti hospital." Then 
turning to a waiter who was standing near he asked if Miss 
Merribel was still in the hotel. 

" Yes, she arrived yesterday with another lady. They are 
leaving to-day. We are just taking up breakfast." 

" What is her number ? " 

" Xumber 32," replied the waiter. 

** Your breakfast is served, sir," said another waiter, hurry- 
ing from the coffee-room. On taking his seat the waiter 
handed him a note. " The other gentleman has gone, sir," 
he said. Wilkes tore open the envelope. It was a brief 
memorandum from Faulmann, informing him that pressing 
business had summoned him to London at once. He begged 
Wilkes to excuse him. 

" Humph," said Mr. Wilkes, " I wonder what is behind 
all this? He seemed to be very cool last night. He 
hardly exchanged a word with me, although the meeting 
was an immense success ; of that there can be no doubt." 
And thereupon the complacent candidate applied himself to 
his breakfast with the appetite of a man whose conscience 
and whose digestion were both of the best. 

Upstairs, in Number 32, Ethel Merribel was pouring out 
her tea, and wondering what could be the matter with 
Lady -£nid. Ethel was feeling the first glow of returning 
health. She had had a sound sleep, and was feelins better 
than she had done for a long time. She had called Lady 
iEnid half an hour ago, and she wondered much why her 
companion had not made her appearance. " Strange," she 
thought, " she is usually up so bright and early. I must 
really go and see what is the matter." 

Leaving the table, she went to Lady iEnid's bedroom, and 
knocked at the door. There was no answer, so she quietly 
opened the door and entered. iEnid was asleep, but in veiy 
restless slumber. Her eyes, although closed, seemed red 
and swollen. Ethel saw in a moment that her friend had 



An Unexpected Meeting. 



43 



been pawing through some vjry trjlng experience, Swopiog 
over tbe bed, aim kitsed tlie girl gently en her iipe. 

MiiiA started, openeil her eyes, looted wildly ruuud her m 
if ahe were a hunted thing, and Haid, " Oh, it i» you, dear ! I 
am BO glad you have come." And atretching out her bihib 
she pulled her friend donii towards her, then niisiiig herself 
on her pillow ahe bunt out crying. 

" Oh, Ethel, Ethel, it ie toodreadful ! It liau haunted me 
all Dight." 

" ¥ou poor child, what in tlreadf d ? Everythiug seemed 
to have gone «o well." 

"Oh, you do not know ! " jEnid said. "You could not 
know, you were asleep when 1 came in. 1'he thought of it 
has nearly driven 
in« mad." 

"Com.e, tell 
me what it ia all 
about,dear,''Baiil 
Ethel sooth- 
ingly.- 

But Lady 
JEnid having at 
laat found some 
one to cling to, 
dimply burietl 
her face in her 
friend's boHom 
and Hobt}ed vi if 
her heart would 

It was only 
after a long time 
that Ethel was 
able to extract 
from her tbe 
terrible story of 
Lonl Bkdud's 
fate. 

4b she heard 
it come, syllable 
by syllable, from 
the lips of her 
trembling and 
sobbiog friend, 
Ethel could 
hardly resist a 
feeling of stem 
delight tbr-J, the 

deeds had 

haunted her bo 

long had at last 

met with so terrible a doom. She said nothing, however, 

until her friend bad told her story to the close. 

" Now, dear," she swd, when the poor girl had ceased, 
"it is very terrible, no doubt. Still 1 do not see why you 
should torment yourself about the doom which has overtaken 
the Earl. But, come, I will not say anything more to y6n 
now. Compose yourself, take a cold shower-bath, and come 
to breakfast. I am afraid the tea will be ice-cold by this 
time." So saying, she loft Mnii, much relieved by the 
mere fact of having communicated her trouble, to her bath 
and her toilet. 

As she bad said, the tea was ice-cold, and when she rang 
for some fresh tea the waiter who came up said, " Please, 
mum, there is a gentleman below who says he knows you, 
and wants to know if he may come up. Here la his card, 

Ethel took it. " Edmund Wilkes I " aba said. " Why, it 



Show hit 



Has he had 



breakfaxt V "' 

"Yes, mum; he has just finished." 

"Tell him to come up directly," she said impulaivelj', 
'* and bring up some fresh tea." 

In another moment Willies appeared in the doorway, and 
holding out both his bands to his cousin, said, " I thought 
you were tied by the heels numing in London." 

" So I was ; but how do you cimie hero ? " 

" Don't you know ? 1 am Radical candidate for the 
representation of Biankshire at tlie coming election." 



lid Ethel. 







But here she is," she exclaimal, i 



WUkesamiled. 

"Not by this 
road, 1 am afraid, 
but we afasll 
make a fight for 
it. The rest will 
come hereafl«r; 
But do sit down 
and get your 
breakfast end 
. tell me all about 
yourself." 

Ethel sat 
down, and while 
pouring out tbe 
tea she explained 
how ahe bad been 
sentdown as pro- 
visional nurse U> 
take charge of a 
fever hospital at 
Garlam. The 
moment she men- 
tioned Garlam, 
Wilkes eUrted. 

_" What," he 
said, " you have 
been there ? " 

"Have I not, 

stayed there for 
good in a grave. 

a Qod-fot«aken 
place in all mv 
life. In tact, 'l 
should have died 
had it not been 
for Lady .£nid. 
1 iEnid entered. 



Lady Mnid Belsover — my- 



cousin, Edmund Wilkes." 

Lady .^nid had come in looking i>ale and feeling still the 
effects of .the storm which bad raged through the whole 
night, unrelieved even by her feverish Bleeps for she had 
seen in her dreams all the passages of that tragic chase with 
the vividness of reality. But when she saw standing before 
her the man who bad already been associated with her in 
her first liut much less serious cycling adventure, she blushed 

'* Lady .^nid," said Wilkes, looking at his cousin inquir- 
ingly, " we have have met before, hut I did not know that 
you were Lady .£nid," and advancing he shook hands with 
the girl with a frank, unaffected friendliness tiiat soon put her 
at her ease. " I was gUd to see you at my meeting last night. 
Lady j£nid. Yours was the first face 1 saw on ri«ng to speak." 



44 



The Splendid Paupers. 



" Yes, I was there. I thought it a good opportunity of 
heariug you without compromising either you or myself." 

** You are quite right," said Wiies gaily. " Do you know 
that I am threatened with the defection of some of my 
supporters on the groimd that I have been riding in carriages 
with duchesses ? " 

" Who has told ? " she asked impulsively, much to Ethel's 
amazement. 

" It was the cabman, I think, to whose care you left me 
when we arrived at Rigby. After he had deposited me at 
the * Radical Arms,' he had a drink at the bar with some of 
my supporters, and the whole story leaked out." 

" But the cabman did not know who I was." 

"But he recognised the carriage as belonging to the 
castle, and so the story got about that I was driven to the 
Radical stronghold by a Conservative duchess." 

Lady ^nid laughed. " Well, you can deny that, anyhow. 
But how is your campaign progressing ? " 

" Oh, we have just begun," said Wilkes. " But tell me, 
what did you think of the meeting last night ? " 

"It was splendid. I enjoyed it immensely. Th^ con- 
clusion of your speech was magnificent." 

Wilkes smiled. He had thought so himself, but, of course, 
could not say so. Nothing is so pleasant as to find your 
own sentiments expressed with enthusiasm by the lady in 
whom you have already begun to feel a certain sympathetic 
interest. 

" Well, you see," said he, " my father is a very wealthy 
man, and all but a very small portion of our money is 
invested in stocks and business enterprises. About a tenth 
of it, however, was spent in buying a small estate in 
Gloucestershire, and upon my word we have to spend more 
on the people's cottages and the hke from the proceeds of 
that estate than we have to spend from the proceeds of all 
the other investments, which are nine times as great. Of 
course, I am against territorial interests and all that ; it is 
^)layed out, and the time has come to make an end of it. 
But our own experiment in Gloucester has been suffi- 
cient to prove to us many times over that of all forms of 
property, land is that which returns least to the owner and 
involves the largest obligations to those employed about the 
place. Hence, I could not in honesty, after having said so 
much about landlordism, conclude without speaking one 
plain strong word as to the much greater evils of capitalism." 

" You certainly spoke strongly," said she. " You will 
^hink me very rude, but do you know what thought came 
to mv mind when we were all standing up and cheering 
vou ?'" 

" No," said Wilkes ; " what was it ? " 

** Whether you would dare to be as good as your word," 
■said Lady ^nid shortly. 

Wilkes flushed slightly. " Oh, really, Lady iEnid," said 
Ethel, " you are too bad for anything ! " 

** May I ask what reason you had for doubting me ? " asked 
Wilkes, after a pause. 

" Forgive me," Lady ^nid said, " for my rudeness. It was 
only because I seemed to realise more than you did what it 
would cost you to live up to your declaration." 

There was an awkwani pause. Then by way of changing 
the subject, Wilkes remarked, " What a terrible affair that 
was of Lord Bladud's death ! " 

"Yes," said Lady ^nid, doing her best to look uncon- 
cerned. "I have never heard anything more awful than 
that woman's cry; although I think, Ethel, you at least 
would have said * Amen.' " 

" Really," said Wilkes, " was the Earl in reality such a 
bad lot?" 

" You had better not ask," Ethel said. " Ever since I came 
to Garlam, the thought of that man has haunted me like an 



evil demon. No one can imagine what a curse he has been 
to the country-bide." 

"There was one thing in that signalman's story," said 
Wilkes, " which I could not understand. I cannot say I alto- 
gether disbelieve him, but it was very improbable, all that 
tale he told concerning the pursuit of a flying cyclist, who 
strangely and mysteriously disappeared into space. I 
confess," he went on, not noticing the embarrassment of 
Lady ^nid or the self-conscious look of her friend, " that 
the probability is that the men in charge of the traction- 
engine were drunk, or keeping no look-out, and invented 
this tale in order to conceal their crime." 

" But," said Lady ^nid, " what motive could have induced 
them to invent the story ? " 

" Motive ! " exclaimed Wilkes. " You do not know, then, 
that both the men were arrested last night, and will be 
charged with manslaughter." 

" You don't say so I " said Lady ^Enid in genuine alarm. 
" Why, it IS monstrous ! They could not help it." 

" My dear Lady iEnid," said Wilkes, " pray don't excite 
yourself. Justice will be done, depend upon it. For if 
they can produce their cyclist it will be all right. If not, 
it will be a case of hard labour for both of them. It is a 
serious business killing an earl in the public highway, even 
although he may be as big a scoundrel as Lord Bladud 
seems to have been." 

Lady iBnid was silent, and again there was an awkward 
pTuse. 

" Are you going back to Garlam ? " Wilkes asked of his 
cousin. 

" Never, I hope," she replied. " It is one of those places 
to which one never willingly returns." 

" W^hat was the matter with the place ? " Wilkes asked. / 

"Garlam," said. Ethel, "is the latest and most authentic' 
illustration of the policy of unrestricted conmiercialifim, with 
its policy of laissez-faire, and the devil take the hindmost. [ 
Lord Bladud was bad enough in one sense. His personal ' 
character was scandalous, but even he, scoundrel as he was, '\ 
had a higher sense of the obligations of property and the > 
responsibilities of life than has Mr. Faulmann." 

Wilkes drew a long breath. " Is it really so very bad ? " 
he asked. 

" Bad ! " said Ethel ; " no one who has not lived in the 
midst of those poisoned, fever-stricken people can possibly 
form any conception of how bad it is 1 I have frequently said 
to myself, when I have seen them come into the nospital all 
cankered with lead and groaning with disease, that the most 
malignant tyrant we ever read of in history could not have 
contrived a more horrible arrangement of human torture 
than that which results almost automatically from this man's 
cynical neglect of his duty towards his workmen." 

Wilkes looked across the table at Lady ^nid. She did 
not seem to be listening to the conversation, but was 
gently applying herself to an egg. 

" Lady .Enid ! " said he. 

She did not hear. 

" Lady -^nid I " he repeated, more earnestly. 

" I beg yotir pardon," she said, starting.. 

" I begin to understand," said Wilkes, " somewhat of the 
reason for the doubt which you expressed just now." 

" Oh, forgive me I " Lady -^Enid said. " It was very rude 
of me, and I am the last person in the world who should 
have said such a thing to you." 

" What do you mean ? " said Ethel. 

"I mean," said Lady ^nid, "that I must have been 
judging you by myself when I doubted whether you would 
flinch, because I have in myself the coward soul which would 
flinch under similar circumstances. If yoa fail, you will 
only be following my example." 



■ \ 



An Inquest at Sloane Hall. 



45 



« 



You speak in enigmas," said Ethel. "What do you 
mean, both of you V" 

" I mean," said Wilkes gravely, " that Mr. Faulmann is 
the chairman of my election committee, and that he pre- 
sided over my meeting last night, and introduced me to the 
audience." 

" And I mean," said Lady iEnid, as if impatient to get 
the painful confession out — " I mean tliat I was the cyclist 
whom Lord Bladud hunted when he came to his death, and 
I shrank like a coward from coming forward to confess the 
fact. No one knows of it, no one would suspect me of 
riding about at that time of night; and think what a 
scan£il it would cause! It would nearly kill my poor 
mother. As for the Duke, I do not think I could ever enter 
Eastland again." 

At that moment the waiter knocked at the door and said 
that a gentleman named Brassy wished to see Mr. Wilkes. 
He was waiting below. 

" Brassy ! " said Ethel ; " can that be the man who put up 
all the slum property in Garlam ? " 

" Very likely," said Wilkes gloomily. " I will go and see 
him anyhow." So, bidding the ladies good-bye, he went 
downstairs. 

Sure enough it was the redoubtable Brassy. But what- 
ever might be his motives, there was not the slightest trace 
of animosity on his smirking countenance. " I just called 
to congratulate you, Mr. Candid ite, on the effect you pro- 
duced last night. Quite wonderful. I walked down with 
Mr. Faulmann to the station, and he declared that he had 
never seen anything like it before ; but," continued Brassy, 
" it has just occurred to me that it would be friendly like 
on the part of one of your committee to give you a hint 
that you have said quite enough about capitalists. There are 
precious few capitalists in the county excepting landlords." 

** And Mr. Faulmann," observed Wilkes, rather bitterly. 

Brassy was pursing up his lips for a whistle, but he checked 
himself. " Yes," said he, " excepting Mr. Faulmann, and, of 
course, a candidate ain*t going to quarrel with his own 
chairman, leastwise not if he hopes to make any show in the 
fight. But a nod^s as good as a wink to a blind horse," 
added Brassy sententiously. " (Jood-day, Mr. Wilkes." 

Hopton came running in. " Won't you go across to the 
court? " said he. " Those traction-engine drivers are coming 
up before the magistrates (firectly, and they will be 
remanded. Decent fellow is Jim, the driver, as ever stepped, 
but I am afraid it will go bard with him." 

Wilkes put on his hat and walked across to the court with 
Hopton. It was crowded in anticipation of the opening of 
the magisterial inquiry into the death of Lord Bladud. 
Almost immediately one of the justices of the to^^ and 
another of the county took their seats upon the Bench. The 
prisoners were brou^t up and charged with having caused 
the death of Lord Bladud. The Inspector who conducted the 
case produced a policeman who de(X)sed that he had on the 
previous night arrested both the driver and the signalman, 
and after duly cautioning them that anything which they 
might say would be used as evidence against them, read out 
the statements which they had made. They were sub- 
stantially the same as that made at the Radical meeting. 
The driver merely said that he heard the tramp of horses 
when approaching the turn of the road ; that he heard the 
Mgnalman shout, and a moment after the bright light of a 
bicycle lamp flashed i^ast him, the bicyclist almost brushing 
against the wheel of the engine. Then he heard no more, 
for his attention was immediately directed to the horseman, 
who was apparently chasing the bicyclist. He describeil the 
shying of tne horse and the death oif the Earl as the other 
had done. 



" I have now to ask," said the Inspector, " that the men be 
remanded till to-morrow. The coroner's inquest will be \\eh\ 
to-day at Sloane Hall, and to-morrow I hope to have sufficient 
evidence to justify you committing these men for trial." 

The magistrates conferred for a moment, and then remande<) 
the two men in due form, ordering the prisoners to remain 
in custody until next day. 

" Cannot you bail them out ? " asked Hopton. 

" I am afraid not," said Wilkes. " Otherwise it will be 
supposed that I had a hand in the killing of the Earl." So 
there was no question as to bail raised. The two men were 
to appear as witnesses at the coroner's inquest two hours- 
later at Sloane Hall. 

After leaving the court, Wilkes returned to the hotel and 
sent up his card to his cousin's room. The answer came 
down that the lady had gone out, but that the other lady 
would be glad to see him. He went up and found Lady 
^Enid alone. She was looking very distraught, but there 
was a grim determination about her face. 

" Well ? " she said. 

He told simply and briefly what had happened. He pro- 
posed to go to the coioner's inquest, but it was evident that 
unless the cyclist could be produced, and some confirmatory 
evidence brought forward that the signalman had warned the 
unfortunate Earl, the men were certain to be committed for 
trial at the assizes. Lady ^nid sat still for a moment. 
Then, looking up, she said, " J was very rude to you just 
now when I said that I doubted whether you would keep 
your word. I little thought that I should so soon have 
l)ersonal knowledge of the bitterness of sacrifice." 

" There is no need for apology. Lady ^nid. I under- 
stand too well how just was your doubt." 

" But," said Lady ^nid, with a radiant light of determina- 
tion in her bright eyes. " I want to tell you that I see my 
duty quite plainly, and I am going to do it," she added^ 
" and 1 hor)e you will do yours." 

"It would be a shame," said he slowly, " if I were to be 
less faithful to my public pledge than you to a duty of 
which no one knows but us three. If you don't fail, how 
dare I flinch ? " 

She stretched out her hand and grasped his. "That 
strengthens me to do my jjainful task," she said. 

" What jire you going to do?" asked Wilkes. 

" Ethel has just gone out to order a carriage, and we are 
going to drive over to Sloane Hall, to the inquest," said 
Lady iEnid. 

CHAPTER XIL 

AN INQUEST AT SLOANE HALL. 

^Jn ADY ^ENID'S trials were by no means over with her 
w f resolution to appear before the coroner, and give 
.^» evidence on benalf of the engine-driver. When 
Ethel Merribel returned, announcing that the trap 
had been engaged, and would be round in an hour, she 
brought with her a telegram, which was addressed to Lady 
^Enid. She opened it hastily, looked at its contents, and 
cried, "Oh, Ethel, father is ill, and they want me to 
return home immediately. What can I do ? " 

Ethel glanced at the telegram. It was from the Duchess 
of Eastland, and simply stated that bad news had arrived 
from Belsover ; that Lord Belsover was dangerously ill, and 
in a state of such prostration that any excitement might be 
fatal, and that Lady ^Enid must return home immediately^ 
as the worst might happen at any moment 

" Of course, you must return home at once. How about 
the trains ? My poor child," she said, " this is a terrible 
blow." 

Lady .^Enid's eyes were filled with tears. "My poor 



46 



The Splendid Paupers. 



father," she said. " He was always so good to me. Now if 
I go to this inquest there will be a scandal in all the })a]^)en«, 
and who knows what the con8e([uence might be ? " 

Her companion was already turning over the pages of 
"** Bradshaw." " Now,'' she said, " it is elev^en o'clock. 
The next through train to Belsover is— let me see— does 
not leave Coleford until four. You have time to go to the 
inquest. What will you do ? " 

If Lady ^nid had not H|)oken alwut it to Mr. Wilkes, the 
chances would have been ten to one that she would have 
smid that she would not go, justifying her sacrifice to the 
interests of justice by the i:>aramount consideration of the 
life of her father ; but she had said she would not flinch, 
and the additional strain to which her resolution was 
subjected strengthened rather than weakened her resolve. 

** I will go," she said. " Meanwhile, leave me alone for a 
time." 

Ethel caressed her t€n<lerly, and left her in her own room, 
where, in an agony of prayer. Lady A*lmd sought for 
strength from on high to do her duty without flinching. 

Mr. Wilkes asked his cousin if he might accompany 
them to Sloane Hall. 

" Better not," said Misn Merribel. " You know what 
trouble came from riding with a duchess before," she added, 
with a shrug. 

So it was agreed that Ethel and Lady Muid would drive 
by themselves, wliile Mr. Wilkes and Hopton would precede 
them in a cab, and arrange for their accommoilation. 

The inquest was fixed for one. It still wanted ten 
minutes to that hour when Wilkes and Hopton drove thn^ugh 
the gates -and up the avenue of the beautiful Elizabethan 
mansion which had so suddenly lost its owner. 

Sloane Hall was one of those famous country places 
" which were built towanls the close of the Elizabethan era. 
. It stood on . the site c»f an old priory which had been dis- 
mantled and condenmed in Henry VlII.'s reign, and the 
Church lands j^assed into the hands of a courtier who was 
•the founder both of the Sloane Hall mansion and the earldom 
of Garlam. 

It was a long drive from the knlge gates to the house, 
thpou'ghthe beautifully laid-out i^ark. The carriage-ilrive 
|)a8sed some charming artificial waters in which swans were 
<sunning themselves in the bright noonday sunshine of 
October, and the wat«r from the lakes fell in miniature 
-cascades into the stream, which formed a thread of silver at 
the foot of the ravine. Herds of deer browsed quietly on 
either side of the drive. The long-legged herons sailetl 
lazily overhead. Now and again the drive passed a copse 
into which rabbits ran in scores, bobbing their white tails as 
they went. 

In the drive Wilkes and Hopton overtook a cart laden 
with wine-cases, which the Coleford spirit merchant had 
been ordered to send to Sloane Hall only the day before 
liord Bladud's death. The Earl had issued invitations for 
a great dinner party that night, preparatory to the annual 
-slaughter of the pheasants that was to take place the follow- 
ing morning, and, although telegrams had been sent to many 
of the guests, others who had heard nothing of the cata- 
•strophe were arriving at what they expected to be a house of 
mirth, only to find it full of desolation and deaih. 

Approaching the mansion, they passed a waggon piled 
high with boxes and trunks of every conceivable variety. 
Some one was evidently leaving the house, who had either 
made or intemled to make a long stav. 

" Halloa I " said Wilkes. " Thereshe is ! I had forgotten 
.she was here, although it was notorious enough." 

As he spoke, an open carriage and [)air dashed by. Seated 
alone in the carriage, half buried in luxurious furs, sat 
Mrs. Longton, one of the most notorious of courtesans of the 



Victorian era. Wilkes recognised her in a moment. He 
had seen her on the stage, where she ix>sed bat could not act, 
and her well-kno>vn face, with the smooth regularity of its 
features, and the absolute lack of any expression other than 
that of a somewhat stupid sheep, enabled him to identify at 
once the harpy who, having batteued on the iires and 
fortunes of many lovers, was now hastening with hec' gains 
from the last man who had called her mistresa. These were 
her boxes, which were going away, and with her in the 
Cc.rriage she had her jewel case. She had taken good care to 
stow away every precious stone the late Earl had ever placed 
within her reach. There was no trace of emotion upon that 
wooden and impassive face, as little as there was of. passion 
in its owner, for Mrs. Longton was one of those wooren who, 
from the very lack of all feeling, seemed the better able to 
play the fatal game of rousing the i)as6ions of those whom 
they seek to plunder. 

The sound of the wheels of the departing lenpiau had 
already died away in the distance when they drove into the 
s]mcious quadrangle of Sloane Hall. It seemed as if half 
the county were, there. Eveiy one had his own veFsion of 
the strange and mysterious death of the fast EarL Men 
gathered together in little groups, discussing the matter. 
One held tiiat it was a Radical plot directed by the 
Anarchists, and that the Earl had been as sorely done to 
death as if he had been blown up by dynamite bombs. 
Others held tliat it served him right, and the o&ly wonder 
was that it had not happened long ago. Between these two 
opinions the conversation ebbed and flowed, but: the one 
thing on which all agreed was that there was 4) great 
mystery about the cyclist. The majority flatly refused to 
believe that there was any such ))erson. It was the inven- 
tion of the driver. But all these effusions wave cat shor^ 
by the arrival of the coroner, who at once proceeded tc 
eiii])anel the jury. 

Mr. W^ilkes was uneasy. Lady Mnid had notyet arrived, 
but the inquest had been formally opened, and as the jury, 
together with some friends, were already on their .way ^ to 
view the body," he joined the little gathering of visitors who 
streamed through the house to the chamber of death. 

Everything about Sloane Hail bore testimony to the 
luxurious magnificence in which its late owner had lived. 

Lord Bladud was an illustration of the truth of tlie old 
saying that one generation makes money, the second keeps it, 
and the third spends it. Lord Bladad was the third, and 
there was no doubt that he had made money fly with both 
hands since his accession to the earldom. 

If the aristocracy are '* splendid paupers," the Earl had 
splendour for his share ; leaving pauperism to those who came 
after. The Sloane estate was in splendid order, and it had ooine 
to him on the death of his father unemharraned by any 
encumbrance ; but its net rental of £20,000 a year was far 
too little for the extravagant tastes of the new EarL In 
addition to his ancestral seat in Blankshire^ he .had a 
sh<Miting-box in a deer forest in the Highknds, a mansiou 
in Berkeley Square, and a floating palace of a yacht, the 
maintenance of which cost him considerably more than the 
income of a Cabinet Minister. He prided himself on hid 
kennels, which were the best in the eastern counties. He had a 
small but valuable stud of racehorses ; and wherever he wa^, 
to use his own phrase, " he went the pace." Wine, women and 
play soon exhausted his immediate resources, and he resorted 
to borrowing recklessly and lavishly, but to his credit be it 
said, he did not reduce the outlay which had been the condition 
of the estate, nor the management of the farm and the affair:) 
of labourers' cottages. In another year or two, even these 
resources would have failed him, but up to the very moment 
if his death the Earl had always been able to lay his hands 
\\\xm as much cash as he needed either to spend or to give 



48 



The Splendid Paupers. 



away, and Sloane Hall, from garret to basement, simply reeked 
with evidence of the luxury and extravagance of its owner. 

There was about the laie Earl a certain popular sympathy 
which made him anxious to emulate the openhanded and 
unostentatious hospitality which used to distinguish the 
English nobility. The tenantry were always welcome to 
Sloane Hall, nor were any restrictions placed upon the 
ntmber of times they might come to regale themselves at 
the hospitable table which was set apart for their use, and 
al^undanUy furnished with foaming tankards of ale and 
vast sirloins of roast beef. He was no niggard, and whpn 
he had money he spent it as freely upon others as upon 
himself. No more generous host ever lavished the resources 
of his mansion upon his guests. He was very fond of flowers, 
was by no means deficient in natural taste, which found 
expression in the choice of pictures and statuary, and his halls 
and drawing-rooms were veritable treasure-houses of art. 

Through the hall, through the drawing-room, past the 
library, which was converted into a billiard and smoking room 
— ^for the Earl and his boon companions cared little for any 
books but those they made at races — the jurors made their 
way to the EarPs bedroom, where the body lay waiting 
identification. 

There was a strange contrast between the voluptuous 
beauty of the fittings of the Earl's room and the figure 
which lay stretched upon the bed. Immediately opposite, 
looking down, as it were, upon the mutilatetl corpse, 
wtas a picture of Bacchus and Bacchantes, full of life and 
colour and a certain shameless immodesty which the Earl 
in life had always afiected. One or two of the still more 
nronounced pictures of the French school had been draped, 
tmxurious settees, piled high with the softest of cushions, 
slood near the fireplace, and there was everywhere a pro- 
fusion of mirrors which, when the great electrolier was 
turned on, gave a wonderful brilliance to the room, a 
brilliance that could be converted into utter darkness by the 
turning of a button. 

On the bed there lay a figure covered with a sheet, around 
which the jurymen grouped themselves, waiting for the 
coroner. They had not long to wait ; they heard his quick 
step and authoritative voice. 

"This way, gentlemen, please, to view the body. 
Uncover the corpse," said the coroner, uiwn which the 
attendant drew back the sheet that concealed the body from 
sight 
, The Earl was a man of somewhat gross body, and the 
spectacle that was presented of an almost headless trunk, was 
sickenine indeed. Idei^tification of the remains was almost 
impossible ; but there was no doubt that it was the Earl. 

Having viewed the corpse, the sheet was replaced over 
the Earl's remains, and the jury returned to the library. 

The evidence was clear and to the point. The Earl, with 
three of his companions, had been dining at the " White 
Hart." They had dined generously, and had partaken freely 
first tf champagne, and then of some hot whisk y-and-water as 
they got into the saddle. They were all mellow, but none of 
them were much the worse for drink. Two of the Earl's 
companions, who were summoned as witnesses, testified 
that, after having eone some two or three miles from 
Coleford, the Earl had suddenly raised the cry of " Tally-ho I " 
and had begun galloping aft^r a cyclist. They had believed 
it was a race between horse and machine. They followed 
to see the sport. That was all they knew. They had not 
seen the cyclist, and could not identify him ; had seen 
nothing of the accident until they rode up to find the Earl 
crushed to death by the traction-engine. 

Their evidence was given reluctantly, and they seemed to 
be considerably confused. 

" We have had in evidence," said the coroner, " that 



there were three companions of the EarL Where is the 
third ? " 

There was no answer. 

" Call the landlord," said the coroner. 

" Now, Boniface." said he, " who were the three gentle- 
men with Lord Bladud ? " 

"Two of them have just been called. The third was 
Lord Skeppy. " 

" Where is Lord Skeppy ? " said the coroner ; " let hiui be 
brought." 

" Lord Skeppy," said one of the servants, " is ill in bis 
bedroom." 

"If he is too ill to leave his bed," said the coroner, " wo 
wiU take his evidence where he is, but carry him down, if 
it can be managed.** 

After a short delay it was announced that Lord Skeppy 
would be brought on a chair, and that he was anxious to 
testify what he knew. When he was carried into the 
library he made considerable sensation. His face was fear- 
fully scratched, one of his arms was in a sling, and he looked 
ghastly and ill ; but the sensation produced by his appear- 
ance was nothing to the sensation produced when he statixl 
that the cyclist whom Lord Bladud had chased was a lady. 

" Lady ! " said the coroner incredulously. " Ladies do not 
go about cycling at midnight." 

" I assure you it was a lady, and a very pretty lady as 
we'l, otherwise she would not have been worth the chase." 

" Then you chased her as well as the Earl ? " 

" Certainly," said Lord Skeppy. " I was a lighter weight, 
and better mounted than he, and I was the first to come 
upon her. I was going i)ast her to hedge her back, so that 
Lord Bladud could pick her up, when she struck my horse 
over the head so violently that it shied into the ditch, flung 
me oft', dislocated my shoulder and scratched my face, an 
you see ; after that I know nothing." 

The engine-driver and signalman were then called. They 
rej^ated their former story, but neither of them could say 
anything as to the sex of the cyclist. They swore they had 
seen no petticoats— only a flashing light, and some one 
rushing past them like the wind. Uix)n the .vital question 
as to whether or not due warning had been given, they 
coi Id produce no further evidence. 

" I do not see what can be done," said the coroner, "-unless 
that cyclist can be found. Shall we issue a reward for her 
appearance, or shall we adjourn this inquest until at least we 
have time to make inquiries ? It ought not to be difificult 
to discover what lady cyclists there are in the county." 

The Suj^erintendent of Police here stepped up to the 
coroner and said that he believed the ladv was in attendance 
and was willing to give evidence. 

" Let her be called at once," said the coroner. 

Wilkes drew a long breath when he saw Lady ^nid 
make her way to the witness's stand. 

After being sworn, she began her evidence. 

" What is your name ? " 

" .Enid Beisover." 

The coroner and those present looked as if the ground 
had suddenly opened before their feet. 

" Lady iEnid ? " said the coroner. " Address, please ? " 

" Six Elms Castle, Beisover Park." 

Then the examination began. I^ady -^Enid told her story 
very simply. She told how she had cycled over to see her 
friend Ethel Merribel, who was present, and could be pro- 
duced. Finding her knocked up with nursing at the Fever 
Hospital, she had taken her place for a few days, until she 
recovered strength ; that, after being in close confinement for 
more than a week, a fine moonlight night had tempted her to 
take a ride, when the roads would be free from traffic, and she 
could get a breath of fresh air before returning to duty. 



The Plutocratic Microbe. 



49 



Then she detailed all that fullowed. On the vitid question 
(if the warning her testimony wa« perfectly clear. She was 
about a hundred yards off wheu tihe caught nght of the 
Hignalman waving the rod flag, and shouting repeatedly. 
It was only because she was in mortal terror of her pursuer, 
and found it impossible lo stop at the rate she was going 
in time to claim the protection of the signalman, tliat she 
had ridden on. The distance between the signainian and 
the engine was, nhe 
thought, about a 
hundred yards, but 
there was a turning 
in the rood, and she 
could not speak cer- 
tainly about the dis- 
tance. She was, how- 
ever, ouite sure tliat 
everytning had been 
done to warn herself 
and her pursuers of 
the approach of the 
traction-engine, and 
it was because she 
knew this to be the 
fact that, at consider- 
able inconvenience 
to herself, she had 
come forward to bear 
testimony. 

When she had 
finished her evi- 
dence, Ethel Merribel 
was called merely to 
confirm the state- 
ment as to Lady 
.Enid's departure 
from the hospital, 
and her subsequent 

damaged machine, 
and ID a condition 
of exhaustion and 



CHAPTER XIII. 



lU 




The coroner then 
summed up, and the 
jury returned a ver- 
dict of "Accidental 
Death," entirely ex- 
onerating the driver 
and signalman from 
all responsibility for 
the accident. 

After tiie verdict. 
Lady Moid hurried 
back to her carriage. 
At the door, Hr. 
Wilkes met her, and 
lianded her into the 
carriage. 

" Good-bye," she said, in a tone that told volumes 
as to tie intensity of the strain from which she was 
suffering. " I have not flinched I " 

" Good-bye," he said. He held her hand for one moment 
in his. " Lady ^nid," said he, " you have done bravely 
inde«d, and the memor? of your deed will help me when 
my turn cornea." . 

She looked at him gratefully — just one wistful look of 
gratitude mingled with a sense of weariness and pain, and 
^en she wss gime. 



THE PLDTOCKATIC MICROKE. 
HEN Mr. Wilkes was turning back to the Hall, in his 
abstraction he almost walked over Dr. Ologoul, who 
had come over from Gariam to attend the inquest 

"I beg pardon," said Mr. Wilkes. 
DO account," said Dr. QlogouL " I am glad to 
make your acquaint- 

tbe gentleman who 
is standing as the 
Radical candidate for 
Blanksbire?" 

"I am," said 
Wilkes. " Are you 
an elector ? " 

"I am not — at 
least, nft m this 
couoty. My voting 
place is some thou- 
sands ijf miles away 
from here, in the 
American Republic, 
but I was anxious tc 
make your acquaint- 
ance, and if you have 
no objection, and you 
are not particularly 
Ijusy, I should like 
to accompany you 
around Sloaoe Hall." 
Wilkes did not ex- 
actly know whether 
lo resent the liberty 
which his new ac- 
quaintance was tak- 
ing, but thinking it 
would be foltowiii); 
the line of least re- 
sistance to assent, he 
languidly assenteil, 
ani the American 
marched him off over 
the grounds, through 
the conservatory and 
the vineries, talking 
glibly as he wont 
about many things, 
lo which Mr. Wilke", 
alMorbed in his own 
thuughtn, paid little 
attention. 

Suddenly he was 
aroused from hie 
brown study by 
hearing the word 
"Faulmaun." He 
listened, and marked 
Dr. 31ogoul'8 words — " I sliould not be surprised if Faul- 
mann were to take this place. He is on the look-out 
far a well-preserved property that can be had cheap; told 
me BO himself, and Bladiid's place mi^t have been made 
for bim. It is not more than half-an-hour's drive to hiK 
works." 

" You mean Mr. Fauhnann of Gariam ? " said Mr. Wilkes 
incredulously. 

" That same gentleinan, and no one else," said Dr. Glugnul 
blithely. " I was talking to him this very momtDg." 



5^ 



The Splendid Paupers. 



"This morning," said Wilkes. " Why, I understood that 
he had been summone^l to London/* 

" i know nothing about his bein>; summoned," said Dr. 
Glogoul. " He was at the Patent White Lead Works at 
Oirlam this morniu;^, and in a very bad tem})er too. He is 
not- a beauty at the best ol* times, but to-day something 
seemed to have vexed him beyond his wont. Still, he was 
evidently bent uixm getting i>os8es»iou of Sloane Hall, and, 
if so, the Lord have mercy uiM;>n the tenants and the 
]>easants and dejiendeuts. It is a bad time they will have 
when Faulmann comes to the fore." 

They had wandered now into the picture-gallery, which 
was dtsertetl by all but themselves. 

** Sit down," said Mr. Wilkes. " I want to speak to you. 
You know this man Faulmann V* 

"Rather," said Dr. Glogoul. "I have been physicking 
the people he has poisoned for the la>*t three week<, and 
1 am about tired of it. Not all the drugs of the Pharma- 
coixpia would coj>e with the wholesale murder for which 
Faulmann is responsible. I have told him rei)eatedly what it 
was necessary to do in order to diminish the mortality, but 
he said that life was cheap, and it was none of his business. 
He had to make money and ytSLy wages. If they did not 
like the conditions of work they could go elsewhere ; and; 
«#f course, I recogniseil that it was business. In our country 
that is the way in which we run things. * Each man for 
himself, and the devil take the hindmost.' What interests 
me is to see the way in which the substitution of this kin<l 
of thing for the doctrine of noNesse ohluje seems to find 
favour with Ba<lical8 in this country." 

Mr. Wilkes winced slightly, and only said, "Are you 
going back to Garlam to-night V " 

" i intend to go there ai soon as our conversation is 
ended." 

" Will you take mf over to your })lace ? " 

" You wiW have to jmt up with short commons and 
miserable acconmiodatitai, I am afraid; but if you care to 
come I shall be delighted." 

"1 will come," said Wilkes. "I want to see with my 
own eyes what you have been telling me. Do you know," 
said he suddenly, "that this man Faulmann is the chairman 
of my election committee ? " 

" I heard so," said Dr. Glogoul, in a matter-of-fact kind 
of way. " What of that ? Business is a thing outside 
l)elitics. A man can be a good Radical, but a bad employer 
of labour. There is no necessary connection between 
private life and public policy, is there ? " 

" There ought to be," said Mr. Wilkes. 

" Well, if you think so, come to Garlam," said Dr. Glogoul, 
** and test, if you like, your chainnan*s public professions by 
his business practices. It is a dangerous exi)eriment, and 
I do not advise you to make it ; but if you are bent u^kju it, 
1 am very much at your service." 

And so it came to ]>ass that the Ratlical candidate for Blank- 
shire accom})anied Dr. Glogoul to the village of Garlam to visit 
incognito the Patent White Lead Works of Mr. Faulmann, 
and the town which had sprung up around those works. 

As Wilkes drove through the unj>aved streets and over 
the open gutters, Glogoul asked him to notice a l<nv, strag- 
gling building standing a little on the right hand side of tlie 
road. " That," he said, " is the latest achievement in jerry- 
Huilding. By-the-bye, do you hapi)en to know anything of 
Brassy, the jerry-builder? " 

Wilkes asked, " Do you mean Joe Brassy, an oily, sinister- 
looking fellow, with a hare-lip and a curious bald patch at 
the back of his head ? ** 

" The same," said Glogoul. 

" Know him?" replied Wilkes. "I should think I do; 
he is one of mv comiuittee \ " 



Glogoul smiled grimly, and said, "We had better lot»k' 
into your committeeman's shetl, if you are not afraid of 
infection." 

" No," said Wilkes, " where you can go I can go ; and if 
my committeeman keeps this house, 1 had better see what 
it is like." 

They got out of the carriage and made their way 
to the door. Dr... GiogouL opened it without ceremony, 
and they entered. Wilkes was almost overpowered 
with the nauseous stench. Bunks were arranged round 
the room, at the end of which were the sanitary con- 
veniences!, so-called becsuse they were the most insanitary 
that could be contrived, and filled the shed with a fcetid 
smell. By the light of two paraffin lamps there were dimly 
visible groups of frowsy men and women sitting round tables, 
at one of which they played cards, and at the other dominoes. 
In the middle of the room, before the fire, some herrings 
were frizzling, adding a flavour all their own to the aroma 
of mildew and sewage which filled the shed. 

" Well, Tom," said Glogoul, addressing the deputy, " how's 
Nance?" ... 

" Worse, doctor," was the reply. " I don't think she 
wull last the night. Her cough is something fearful, and 
the moment she dozes there is some drunken row, and 
she is waked up again." 

" You don't mean to say," said Wilkes, " that a \}Q0T 
wopaan is dying in the midst of this crowd?" 

"Come and see," said Glogoul. They passed the two 
groups of players, and made their way to the farthest end of 
the room. In one of the bunks, with her head not more 
than a foot or two from the open cessixx)! which serFed as a 
lavatory and retiring-room for the lodgers, a poor woman 
lay in the last stage of consumption. Her chetks were 
sunken and her eyes had an unearthly glitter, while from 
time to time a hacking cough was followed by a* pitiful 
s]ntting of blood. When Glogoul approached she raised 
herself slightly on her elbow, but failed to do more than 
turn herseu slightly in the bed. 

" Doctor," she said, in a hollow whisper, "cauld you not 

take me to some quiet place to die ? Here it is too r" Her 

hacking cough interrupted her sentence. . .i . v .♦ 

"I will do what 1 can," said Glogwl;. "meantime 
I will give you some medicine which will give you a little 
sleep." 

" Thanks, doctor," she said, " oh, thanks so much 1 — it is 
too horrible here." . j . 

" Bring me a glass, will you ? " said Qlogoul to the 
deputy. The man brought a tin pot. " Now," said Glogoul, 
" a little water and a spoon to mix this medicine with, Nance 
is sufi'ering a great deal, and I am going to give her some- 
thing to make her sleep." He mifred a potion and put it to 
her li|)s, she swallowed it eagerly, and lay .back with 
closed eyes. In a few minutes she seemed easier, and 
apiKjareil to fall into a quiet sleep. 

"She is all right now, I think," said the doctor, "until 
the morning. I will call to-morrow ; do not send for me 
during the night." 

So saying they left. " Is she the only patient you have 
here ? " asked Wilkes. 

" Oh, no," replied Glogoul ; " there are two or three others, 
but they will last a little longer. She has been here for a 
week or more, and it is very interesting to notice the develop- 
ment of consumi>tion among the other lodgers." 

The doctor spoke in a cold unsym})athetic tone, as if the 
communication of the virus of consumption to h^thy 
))ersons was an interesting experiment provided for hu 
observation by kindly Nature. 

" Won't you have to come and see that woman again ? ^ 
asked Wilkes. 



The Plutocratic Microbe. 



5.1 



" CerUinI; not," wid Glogoul ; " I ain going to apanJ the 

" But," Mid Wilkes " she ib adying woman 1 " 

" She will be dead l>erore midtiiglil," replied Glugoul 
calmly. 

" What ! " eickimed Wilkea. 

" Dea'l," said Glogiiul. " 1 arranged for that. If I had 
not given her thnt medicine ehe would have liogered fur 
auother day, continuing to poiaon the atmosphere of that 
iivercrowdeJ shed, suffering miserably, aa you Baw, because 
«h« cannot get a quiet place to die in. The opiate wliivh I 
^.tve her has secured her alt that she needa. She will never 
u-ake again." 

Wilketi, who wai of a hot temper and unaccustomed to 
•llscuM the problems in the midst of which Qlogoul spent 
his life, - 



each successive stage I test their virus upon one or other < f 
the inhabitants of Oarlaiu. The prioress of each patient 
is carefully noted, until at last I arrive at a sufficiemly 
attenuated sample to be used fur purpOBes of general 
inoculation." 

" But do you mean to tay," said Wilkes, "that you are 
absvlutely inoculating healthy persons with disease in order 
to l«Ht the iinprfect results of your experiments?" 

" Uertainly," said Dr, Gioguul ; " and we all do it." 

" But it is a sjiecies o( huiaan vivisecliun," said Wilkes 
inipatiemly. 

" Of course," rejilied Glc^oul. Then asauiuing a more 
confidential tone he went on. " My dear sir, I perceive that 
you are labouring under a great delusion. You call your- 
self an advanced politician, but you are in reality a very 




])ro1ong h e c 
life, you have 
only to ro- 
ller up and 
give her this 
emetic, and 
Hbe will auffsr 
horribly for 
another day 
and then dia 

in ^ony, whereaa now she will simp peacefully off at 
niidnighl." 

Wilkes was silent When he entered Glogoiil's lodgings 
and uotiMd the skulls and jars of speoimens which lined the 
wall*, ho uid to the doctor, " After bearing your defence of 
murder, one SmIb almost as if one were entering the den of a 
poisonet." 

" 3o you are," replied Dr. Glogoul coolly. " All medicine 
it poison. The most successful physician hat to poison or 
to murder— if you prefer the word — the microbe which it 
deBtroying the vital tissue of his patient. Hence the study 
of medicine is the study of poison. Do you see these jars 
ranged round my laboratory? In every one of them I am 
cultivating some bacillus or otiier. 1 am making great 
jirogress here. Never could I have had more admirable or 
more willing subjects for pathological experiments. I am 
cultivating, as you see, the bacilli of all the diseases, and at 



Bume that the 

law of neces- 
sity which dominates the whole of nliysical nature ceases 
at an arbitrary frontier line which tney draw. It does not 
cease, lliere is no frontier line. We are all creatures of 
njjcewity," 

" Then," said Wilkes, " on that doctrine what becomes of 
the moral law ? " 

" Tiiere is do moral law," rejJied Glogoul, " any more 
than there is .my religion. Wlwt is right to-day may be 
wrong to-mcrrow, and what is wrong to-morrow may be 
right the diy after. The welfare of society in the future 
will rest us a foundation upon what, if we may use old 
niythologi'jal phrases, may be described as the moral obliga- 
tion to niurder." 

" You talk like an a 
said Wilkes bitterly. 

" You will not offend me," said Glogoul calndy ; " nothizig 
can offend a man when be has once finuly graH]^>ed the 



n the jargon of a philosopher," 



52 



The Splendid Paupers. 



fundamental principle of the new philosophy. An unfamiliar 
idea, when nrst propagated, always produces its natural 
reaction in the social organism which is always con- 
servative, and rightly so. Your martyrdoms and cruci- 
fixions, what were they but the reflex action of the self- 
preserving instinct in society? You may call me an 
assassin now, but the assassin of to-day is the philanthropist 
of to-morrow. Modern civilisation is rapidly securing the 
survival of the unfit, with the result that the whole race 
has run to nerves. The modem man, but still more the 
modem woman, is becoming a hopeless neurotic, and if it 
were not for cholera, war and similar beneficent agencies I 
should despair for the future of the race. 

" Now, for instance," continued Glogoul, handing a cigar- 
case to Wilkes and lighting his own cigarette, " you consider 
that your democratic socialism and humanitarian enthusiasm 
are the finest outcome of the civilisation of the past. That 
it is a product of the past, and that it will work out certain 
results, I do not doubt ; but these results are not what you 
anticipate. Your maudlin philanthropy with its revolt 
against the decrees of Nature, what is it doing? It is 
creating a neurotic population which flies from the country, 
in which alone healthy manhood is possible, and crowds the 
cities, which are hotbeds of mental and physical deteriora- 
tion. Having destroyed the monarchy, you are now waging 
a holy war against the aristocr.jcy, and what is the result? 
Bladud has gone and Faulmann rises in his stead. The 
tendency of the neurotic civilisation is to establish on the 
mins of all dynasties and hierarchies and religions the 
despotism of the dollar, the sway of the plutocrat, which 
will be as ruthless as Asiatic cholera and a great deal less 
speedy in its beneficent surgery.*' 

"A truce to theorising," said Wi'kes. "You may be 
right or you may be wrong, but what about Faulmann V " 

" All right," said Glogoul ; " don't be so impatient. Let 
me finish what I have to say. In this old country you have 
succeeded in preserving, how I do not exactly know, nor 
need we inquire, the principle of noblesse oliigey which has 
played its part and has contributed its fair share to the 
welfare of the social organism. It has even succeeded in 
teaching ten per cent, of your moneyed men that if noblesse 
oblige is a good doctrine, richesse oblige has also some- 
thing to say for itself. But if you want to see the plutocrat 
freed from the swaddling-clothes of aristocracies, you must 
come to my country. There you will be told that 
Democracy is Triumphant, with the result that capital is 
king — ^king by right divine of the almighty dollar, with a 
power which disdains the limitations with which your 
philanthropic sentiment has crippled the capitalists in this 
country. But your sentimental socialism is saturating the 
American working man with its dreams of an impossible 
Utopia, and capitalism, even in the States, has occasional 
nightmares based upon the memories of the Christian 
mythology which it leamt in its childhood. To see the 
true ultimate of the power of plutocracy freed from the 
trammels of mythological scmples or humanitarian preju- 
dices we must go to China. There alone the pathological 
student can make experiments without fear of conse- 
quences. There alone is the right divine of money 
sanctioned by custom and recognised as the highest law, 
by a population laborious and ingenious enough to dominate 
the world." 

Glogoul paused, and for a few minutes the two men 
smoked on in silence. Then Wilkes looked at his watch. 
" You have not told me a word about Faulmann," said he. 

" No," said Glogoul ; " I have all the material ready, and 
you can read it at your leisure." Thereupon he handed him 
a portfolio, in which were arranged with the careful pedantry 
of a university professor all the documents relating to the 



" type Faulmann." There was, to bepuin with, the copy of 
the original prospectus on which the White Lead Company 
was founded ; lists of the shareholders, of the ofiQcers, and 
reports of all the annual meetings held since the company 
was founded. There was a list of the dividends paid from 
the year of its commencement. There was a portrait of the 
man Faulmann, with a biographical sketch as complete a» 
could be made, showing that he was the son of a Jew pedlar 
in Germany, and commenced life by helping his father to 
wheel his barrow. He had gradually accumulated a little 
capital, with which he had speculated luckily, and again 
speculated until he had been able to start business as a small 
moneylender. It also stated how his business had grown 
and thrived; that he had excited much animosity in the 
district in which he lived; that he had been obliged to 
realise his investments and come to London. There was 
also the scandalous story of the obtaining of the monopoly 
for the supply of white lead to the Turkish Empire, which 
he had procured by bribing a pasha high in office at the 
Sublime Porte, together with notes of the conversations 
which the doctor had had with Faulmann on various 
occasions. The gist of all these was the same, that businesB 
was business, money was money, and that — 

** Dollars and dimes, dollars and dimes. 
To be without money's the worst of crimes. 
To keep all you get, and get all you can 
Is the first, the last, the whole duty of man." 

Then followed a series of extracts from blue-books which 
contained the reports of the inspector of factories as to the con- 
dition of the lead works. They began from the year after the 
works were opened, and continued down to the last published 
volume. They were an unbroken series of condemnations. 
They pointed out that the machinery was left unfenced, that 
the necessary provisions for cleanliness were not made, that 
the workpeople were allowed to eat in the works, and that, 
in short, every precaution which sanitary science showed to 
be necessary to render innocuous the prosecution of such 
an industry was conspicuous by its absence. 

There were also one or two cases in which actions had been 
brought in the neighbouring police and county courts against 
the White Lead Company, but always with one result — 
namely, that after the first hearing there was a remand, and 
then nothing more was heard of the case. The Company 
always found it better policy to square the individual than to 
provoke a public scandal. 

As Wilkes read on and on with a sinking heart, he turned 
to another bundle of documents. They were extracts from 
the reports of the medical officer of the Union in which 
Garlam stood. From these he leamed that the whole of the 
ground on which Garlam stood had been leased to the White 
Lead Company by the Earl of Bladud. The Company was 
the sole ground landlord, but almost all the houses in which 
the workmen lived had been put up by Joe Brassy of Rigby. 
These reports to the Local Sanitary Authority were varied by 
an occasional report by the medical inspector of the Local 
Government Board when an epidemic had broken out. 
They all told the same tale, and showed the absolute n^lect 
of everything which would not bring the Company a profit 
There was neither water supply nor drainage system, 
no provision for cleanliness, nor for the education or the 
civilisation of the unfortunate workman. In shorty if the 
condition of the Patent White Lead Company's works was 
deplorable, that of the village of Grarlam was still more 
detestable. It was a scandal to a country calling itself 
civilised that such a population should be found in such a 
condition of squalor, filth and disease. 

Glogoul had gone on smoking without saying a word. 
When Wilkes had finished reading the last document he 



Defeated but Triumphant. 



53 



lo.*ed up at his hoet. His cheeks were pale and hie lip* 

(■o.n|>res»ed.' 

., " Well?" Mid Glogoul. 

" Well, indeeJ," uaid Wilkes bitterly, " the infernal 
scoundrel ! " 

" My dear sir," said Giogoul, blowing B nng of tobacco 
•moke', which floated slowly up to the ceiling— "no 
impatience. Remember Faulmaun but actad according to 
' the law of hia being. He in a very good specimen of— what 
should 1 call it?— the plutocratic microbe, whose virus has 
not yet been sufficiently at- 
' tsDiisied by civilisation." 

" But,'- said Wilkes, " this 
twenty-per-cent. fiend is a 
thousandfold greater curse 
to tbc country than a scamp 
like Lord BlaJud." 

" And yet," said Glogoul, 
with a slightly malicious 
liumout gleaming in his eye, 
"* it is under the auspices of 
Mr. Faulmann of the Patent 
White Lead Works, and ^ --^ 

Mr. Brassy, landlord of 
Garlam, that Mr. Edmund 
Wilkes has come down to f^ 

w.\ge war to the death > 

ft^niUHt the territorial mag- >^ 

nates in order to promote 
the well-being of the people." 

CHAPTEB XIV. 

DEFEATED BUT TBICMPHAST. 

^DMUND WILKES 
fS. slept little that night. 
**i When he came down 
to breakfast he found 
that Dr. Glogou! had already 
}(oDe on bis rounds. On his 
]itat« lay a card, on which 
the doctor h.id written as 

** Eiciue my abaonce, but I 
have to atart early to nrrange 
fur a Bucc.Bior. 1 forgot to 
tall you last ni^'bt that I am 

Sing by the ndt ouil to 
ilna. That is the ODUntry 
vf the fature, for it li the 
coontry of the l'*gioal Dili- 
mate of Materialism and 
money. It will take voar 
Fanlmamis and yonr Walted- 
. offi another generation bo- 
fuTB they can develop the 
type of man whom I am 
aevkins-, and wiioiu I shall Qnd in the Celestial Empire. By- 
thc-bye, Nance died last niglit." 

Wilkes finished his breakfast and went out into the 
village. The men were all at work, and the frowsy women 
were standing gossiping in the streets. A swarm of dirty 
urchins were sailing chip boats in the gutter. Overhead the 
nby was bright and clear, for a land wind drove the smoke of 
the works far away over the sea. As he stood at the door- 
way, looking about him, Wilkes noticed a man who appeared 
to l>e a cross between a bill-sticker and a gamekeeper, 
(jomi.-ig duwa the street, handing what seemed to be tracts 




to the people. Wondering' -what phase of social or religiou* 
propaganda this distribuapn might represent, the man 
rapidly approached him and offered him a couple of hand- 
bills. Ue look them mechanically, without looking at their 
headings, and said to the man, "Are you distributing them 

" Yes," was the reply, and the man hurried on. " Election 
business ! Couple of these to be delivered at every house in 
the county Ijefore to-morrow night 1" 
Wilkes' glanced at the bills, and as he did so his heart sank 
within him. 

He eiitered the house, 
c'osed the door, and sat 
<:uwn. He saw in a moment 
their significance, and he 
I aid unwilling buniage to the 
li.genuity and adroitness of 
Irlr. Wirham, whose hand he 
at once recognised. The two 
bills resembled eacli other in 
Hliape and size. Each was 
headed on one side, " What 
THE Badical Candid atb 
Says!" Wilkes recognised 
with a groan the peroration 
iif which he had been so 
]iroud when he delivered it at 
tlie Com Exchange at Cole- 
f.ird. On the other side of 
I of the bills was printed, 



■' Wh 



Ra 






w»s foUowed by a most 
KCHthing extract from the 
lejiort of the Local Oovem- 
nient Inspector as to the 
scandalous neglect of every 
].recaution for jireservjng 
the health of the eniployte 
i>f the Patent White Lead 
Works at Garlam. At the 
iHittomofthebill was printed 
iiiie line: "The dividend of 
the Patent White Lead 
Works last year was 20 per 
cenL" The second handbill 
was also headed, " What 
THE Radicai. Candidate 
Sa IB ! " and on the opposite 
-ide was the heading, 
"What the Radical 
Landlord Does ! " then fol- 
lowed an extract from the 
Rural Sanitary inspector's 
report as U> the condition of 
Mr. BrAxHy's house property 
at Garlam. At the bottom 
of this leaflet was piinted, " Ilow can the Radical Candidate 
keep his Word?" 

Wilkes remained in the doctor's room fur ten minutes, 
staring at these two bills, the bearing of which on his can- 
didature he saw in a minute. He had taken the field with 
a generous enthusiasm and an honest Itelief that the cause 
of social democracy demanded a revolt against the influence 
of the territorial aristocracy, and now he was confronted 
with incoutrovertible evidence that the chairman who 
was brmging him out, and one of the lending members of 
his electoral committee, were guilty of infinitely more heinous 
oSences against humanity and the working-people than lb« 



54 



The Splendid Paupers. 



worst peer m Blankshire. What was he to do ? Ketire ? He 
nhraiik from that alteniative. ' He had pledged his word to the 
electors to fight the battle through without flinching. He 
lionestly believed that the ascendency of the Duke of 
Eastland was prejudicial to the bestr interests of the county. 
The broad features of the ix)litical and social sittiation were 
in no way altered by the fact that he had a scoundrel for 
his chairman and a rascally jerry-builder among his 
supporters. Yet what hope was there of making even a 
semblance of a fight if at the beginning of the campaign he 
were to quarrel with Faulmann and Brassy ? What was 
he to do ? 

His first and foremost impulse was to have it out with 
Faulmann there and then. He put on his hat and coat and 
walked down to the offices of the Patent White Lead 
Works and inquired for Mr. Faulmann, only to be told that 
lie had left the place and would not be back for two or three 
days. Garlam was hateful to him, and Wilkes felt he could 
not remain there another hour. As it was only about ten miles 
to Coleford, he came to the conclusion that he could not do 
better than walk off his spleen. By the time he arrived 
at C\>leford he would probably have made up his mind as 
to what course to adopt. Pulling his hat over his eyes 
he strode sullenly down the street, past Joe Brassy's 
ficetiously designf\ted **M(xlel Lodging House," and out 
i ito the open country. He was relieved to have left that 
|)est-smitteh village behind him. There was a fine autumnal 
c:is])nes8 in the air, and before he had gone a couple of miles 
liis spirits b3gan to rise. 

Seeing that a winning game was out of the question, 
could he not ]>lay the grand game? He had taken the field 
against the territorial system ; it was now time for him to ♦- 
fulfil his pledge to defend the cause of the people against '' 
the capitalist scorpion. He had a meeting that night in- 
Stronwich. Hopton would be there, and Brown would 
supi^ort him in whatever he did. He would shov the 
county what his candidature meant. There should be no 
fliuchmg. He would fight the Duke, and Faulmann, and 
Brassy, and the whole crew. With which valorous resolve 
he fell to preparing the speech in winch he would declare this 
new departure, and proclaim to his supporters that their 
chairman was to be henceforward regarded as the enemy. 

On arriving at Coleford he bought a special edition of the 
Libaral weekly pape*,. which contained a full report of the 
pnxieedings at the, inquest at Sloaue Hall the previous day. 
There was a short editorial, in which the writer commented 
somewhat sarc^ticaDy ujwn the modern young woman who 
went cycling at midnight, ap]wrently in search of adventures, 
and who was attending Radical meetings at the time when 
her father was dying. " There must be some ' strange 
attraction in Blankshire at the present moment,'^ continued 
the leader writer, " to induce Lady ^Enid Belsover to leave 
her home and indulge in such vagaries as these.'' 

A telegram in another |)art of the paper announced that 
Lord Bdsover had died at three o'clock the previous day, 
almost exactly the same moment that Wilkes had handed 
Lady Mmd into a carriage at Sloane Hall. He reaUse<l 
as he ha<l never done before the sacrifice which she had 
made, and the cruel misrepresentations to which she 
had laid herself open on his account. A fierce impulse 
seized him to go to the newspa|ier office and fiog the CKlitor 
within an inch of his life. A moment's reflection convinced 
him that this would only make matters worse, more 
especially as, glancing down the paper, he came upon a 
significant paragraph, which ran somewhat as follows : — 

Grftve disflatisfaction was exprosstMl at the Radical head- 

?iUarttt8-at the extraordinary attiraticed of the young roan 
rom London, Mr. Edmund Wilkes, at the meeting in t!ie Corn 
Exchange last nfght Ue went out of his way t«> oinpU- 



ment tho Duke of Eastland, and was preparing an flab:>raff 
attack upon the decens.d E irl of Bladiul. who had hwu dom- 
to death by the vagaries of a fair cyclist wl»o appeal's to have 
a singul-tr fascination for the Raditral oandiJate. Chwkcd ii> 
the delivery of this attack upon a dead man by the indignation 
and horror of the audience, this ** Radietil " candidate brou^^ht 
his speech to a close by making what all present regarded as^ 
an attrick, no less moustrous because it was cleverly veileti. up n 
the chairman of the meeting. Well has the Tor>' D. lilah played 
her part ! The Philistines are up m thee, S;im8ou ! 

Flinging down the pajjer in disgust, he went to the " BoarV 
Head" and ordered something to eat. While waiting for 
lunch to be served he took up the Conservative pajier.. It 
contained a picturesquely written description of the meeting: 
in the Corn Exchange, not inaccurately done, but at the 
close of hia peroration, which was rep<^rted in the first person, 
the descriptive writer said : — 

The meeting rose and cheered vociferously, but there was 
one person who showed no inclination to join in the enthusiasn^ 
of the crowd. That ])er8on was the chairman. He seemed ns> 
uncomfortible as a toad under a harrow, and no wonder. 
Mr. Wilkes is a yonno: man, and is Unacquainted with the 
story of the Patent While Lead Works of Garlam. 

The leading article complimented him upon the intrepidity 
with which he had stated his opinions, and expressed a 
hope that he might he as good as his word, and carry the 
War. into the camp of the ca}>italist who, out of a dividend of 
twenty })er cent., left his workmen to rot with disease, 
while the . hard-hit landlords, who were scarcely drawing 
two per cent. iijK)n money invested in improving the 
la^, were exi)eoted to supply the lal)ourers \vith healthy 
cdttages and to look after their sanitary needs. 

Here was but cold comfort for Wilkes. One br two 
people at the market ordinary, who had been at the meeting, 
came over and shook hands with him. .Others who had 
been very enthusiastic at the Corn Exchange passed him 
without seeming to notice his existence. As soon as hehad 
finished his lunch he to<.>k the train to Stroiiwich. 

On arriving there he found a pretty. state of affairs in hi» 
committee-room. Brassy had been there all the morning 
declaring that Wilkes was a traitor; that he bad sold the 
cause ; and that he was tlie lover of Lady ^nid Belsover, 
who had been used as a decoy to lure the impulsive young 
Uadical into the Tory fold. He said that Mr. Faulmann was. 
determined to have nothing to do with his candidiature,' and 
that he himself was convinced that W^^^^ ^^M * ^oU m 
sheep's clothing, and that the cam|)aign must be abandoned 
unless another candidate could be/found at once. ' The local 
committee were in session when he arrived. Brassy had 
left, having sown the seeds of suspicion and distfust with 
both hands. Wilkes was a stranger and aione^ yrit^^ut ^y 
person even to introduce him to those xsiho were prasenit. 

••You are Mr. Wilkes, I suppose," > said, a iurly .beer- 
house keeper, who had turned Radical- because of . ^ing 
severely fined by a Tory magistrate for some cfffence against 
the Licensing Laws. " Mr. Wilkes," said this worthy, whose 
name was Peter Phil pot, " we ain't Londoners, but plain 
countryfolk, who say what they think land don't beat aoout 
the bush. What is the meaning of all this talk that is in the 
papers this morning about you and the lady cyclist wlio 
killed Lord Bladud V " 

" Sir," said Wilkes, with difficulty restraining an inclina- 
tion to throw the man do\\'nsta'rs, " I am perfectly ready to 
answer any questions whiqh you may care to ask me, but 
1 would beg of yon as a'gentleman to refrain from itisulting 
a stranger whom you have invited to address jqmJ* 

A quiet-lookmg man who was sitting near the door said, 
•• Philpot, sit down ; that is not the way in which to open 
this business, which is delicate and difficult, and with your 



Defeated but Triumphant. 



55 



permission, sir," he said, turning to Mr. Wilkes, " we would 
like to ask you one or two questions." 

"Ask as many as you please,'' said Mr. Wilkes. 

** We have heanl, sir," said this man, who was in a thriving 
way of business, " we have lieard you called a traitor, ami 
there be those who have said all manner of evil against you 
l»ehind your back ; but as they are not here to say it before 
your face, we do not need to take any account of them. 
But, Mr. Wilkes, we are uneasy alnmt one thing : do you 
mean to fight this thing out, or will you sell us to the 
enemv ? *' 

♦ 

•* Hear, hear,** said Pliiljx)t ; " that is the question, and let 
ufl have a straight answer, young man.*' 

** Gentlemen," said Mr. Wilkes, " I am going to fight this 
battle through to the bitter end, whether or not I have the 
honour of your support. I was asked to come here as the 
only man you could find who would be independent enough 
— and, shall I say, reckless enough — to raise the standard of 
revolt againftt the enemies of the people. Personally I had 
nothing to gain, and much to lose. 1 had a safe seat otTereil 
me in more than one northern county, but the forlorn hojxj 
attracted me, and I came here to fight to the last. There 
will be no fiinohing on my i>art, gentlemen.'* 

The frankness of his s]ieech disarmed a good deal of the 
suspicion with w^hich he had been regarded. ** I see now^," 
he continued, " that the fight will be much more serious than 
we had anticipated w^hen 1 came. For, gentlemen, what we 
have to conteml against is not merely the intluence of the 
landlords, which will be useil without mercy now that they 
are threatened in the very 8trongh(.»ld of their power, we 
have -to encounter a much more dangerous and more 
insidious foe. As you know, I came here a stranger. I was 
introduced to the meeting at C'oleford by Mr. Faulmann, the 
chairman of the Radical committee of Blankshire. I knew 
nothing about Mr. Faulmann oxcepting as the chairman of 
your committee, and I had l)een told that he was a sound 
Radical, who waa willing to support energetically the 
struggle we were to make for inde{)endence. I spoke, as 
some of you who w^ere at the meeting may remember, with 
great emphasis as to the need for fighting the foes of the 
people wherever they were found ; whether they were the 
broken-down tyrants of territorialism, or the new tyranny < f 
the^utocrats. I did not know then what 1 know now." 

There was a stir in the committee-roora, and every one 
bent forward to catch his lightest word. 

^' I spent last night at Garlam. I have had the opportunity 
of studying theiofficial reports concerning the way m which 
Mr. Faulmann • fulfils his duty as an employer, and the 
reports of the local officer of health as to the sanitary condi- 
tion of the village which he has allowed Mr. Brassy to build 
on his land, at his gates. Gentlemen, I do not disguise from 
you for a moment that, bad and hateful as the dominion of 
the squire and pars6n has been, and great as is the dereliction 
of duty on the part of many of the peers who have lorded i't 
over this free democracy, there is nothing that I have dther 
read or heard to equal for infamy the oondition of misery 
which has come into existence in the last few years under 
the direct authority of Mr. Faulmann." 

A profound' sensation followed this emphatic utterance. 
Committeemen wlds|>ered to each other, and Philpot audibly 
snorted, ^ Didn't I tell you so ? " 

••Now," said Mr. Wilkes, "let us be perfectly plain and 
above^beaid; • If i am to head the revolt of the people 
against' their tyrants and taskmasters, that revolt must be 
directed equally against aU tyrants and taskmasters, whether 
they call themselves Radicals or Conservatives. We stand 
for the people. It is their cause that I came to Blankshire 
to fight, and it is nothing to me whether they suffer from a 
plutocrat or a peer. Wherever wrong is done, that wrong 



must be rijjhted, or we will know the reason why. Now, 
lientleiiien, 1 have told you where I stand; it is for you to 
decide what v«.iu will du." 

Mr. Wilkes resinned his seat. Peter Phil]x»t jumped up 
instantly and declared, " It is all very well for the young 
man from Lontlnn '' 

" Hush ! " said a companion ; " keep a civil tongue in your 
head, anyhow." 

" Well, will the candidate tell us," he ccmtinued, "how 
we are to fight this battle without a chairman ? Where is 
the monev to come from V" 

Another meml>erof the committee askeil more civilly how 
Mr. Wilkes ])n»]Mjsed to carry on the campaign, if he were 
to begin it by a<lding Mr. Faulmann to the list of the enemies 
against Avhom they had to fight? 

" Well," sai<l Mr. Wilkes, "all this has come on me as a 
surprise. What I ])r(>jK)se is, to meet the people in the 
Town Hall to-night at Stronwich, and put the caise before 
tjjem fully an«l fairly. If tliey support me, well and gootl ; 
wo shall replace Mr. Faulmann as cliainnan ()f the committee. 
W they ref.ise to supjwrt me, I shall prosecute my candida- 
ture without regard to the Radical organisation. I cannot 
go back. I have nailed my colours to the mast, and I am 
g« ing to the im.11." 

After considerable discussion . and some acrimonious 
animadversions, it was agreed that no letter course could be 
suggested. Mr. Wilkes, therefore, that very evening, met a 
crowded and boisterous assembly (»f the electors in the town- 
hall. There was a great deal of ]>rejudice aginst him at 
first, and fur a time it seemed as if there would be some 
difiiculry in obtaininfij n hearing. His ccmiiM^surc, his good 
humour, ar.d his quiet determiuation triuniphe<l at last, and 
soon the crowded assenil)l:»ge was listening intently to his 
words. Discardiui!; all pretence of making a regular jx>litical 
s[)eech, he told the whole story cf the st-te of affidrs at 
(rirlam, and ap]ienled to them whether, as honest men, they 
could decLire w.ir >*g.tinst the hudlords, while in their own 
ranks they cherished a jerry-buiUiei; whose la- dlnrdism was 
frir worse than that of the most des|K)tic ]>cer'in the county; 
or whether thevc<»ul<l ^iro forth to l»attle under a lea<ler whose 
works were a Inword for his cynical neglect of all care for 
the well-being of his ])eople. 

Long before he had reached his icrvrati(»n Wilkes felt 
that he had the audience i^ Ms hand. When he sat down 
there was no wliisper of oi)position. PhiliK)t was cowed, 
and even Brassy, who had slunk into a corner where he 
could hear and not be perceived, dl.l not venture to dissent. 
It was decided to prosecute the campaign (»n Mr. Wilkes' 
lines, and a general meeting of the ]>arty was summoned to 
meet at Rigby on the following Monday. 

When that committee met the first business was to read a 
letter from Faulmann resigning his chairmanship. There 
was no explanation, nor was any needetl. Mr. Brassy alsc^ 
resigned his ix)sition on the committee, but with these 
exceptions the committee Bt<x)d firm. The Rev. Ebenezer 
Brown was apiK>inted chairman in the place of Mr. Faul- 
mann, and the cam]>aign was ft»ught out on the lines 
laid down by Mr. Wilkes at the meeting in Stronv/ich. 

"It is magnificent," said Mr. Wirham, as he read of 
Mr. Wilkes' doings, " verv magnificent, but it is not war. 
We may dismiss half our canvassers at <»nce, as it is useless 
to go to any unnecessary expanse. As for myself, I will go 
back to town. Lord BulstrcKle's return is a certainty." 

The exjierienced wirepuller was right. But for a time Mr. 
Wilkes and his sup;K>rters, full of the energ,v and enthusiasm 
of youth, deceivcil themselves by the mere reflection of their 
own energy into believing that they had a chance of success. 
They had enthusiastic meetings everywhere. Lord Bulstrode 
hardly ever opened his mouth, and when he did, as one of 



56 



The Splendid Paupers. 



hid followers cnndiilly admittei' 
ill it." The clergy, wiih two or 

.. tb«ir pariaiieg ufteniiibly on 
belialf of the Welsh Church, 
but in reality in the interestB 

. of Lord BuLstrode. Of Mr. 
Fauliiinim nothiDg was hesRl 

. or Been. Mr. Brassy laid Kiw, 
feeling that he was in immi- 
nent danger of being crushed 
between the upper and the 
nether milUtone ; but wliat 

, iiiHueuce he cniild exert he 
used against Mr. Wilkes, and 
he gave his vote for Lord Bul- 
fllrode. When the polling daj' 
came Lord Bulstrode received 
3,l!00 vot«8, whUe Mr. Wilkes 
had 1,300. 

Tha election had been a lung 
one, for the contest had not 
taken place until six weeks 
ftfler the death of Lord Bladad. 
After heariiig the declaration, 
Wilkes, weary and worn under 
tlie blow of his crushing dis- 
to the 



, " he always put his foot 
three exceptions, canvassed 



by 



i Head," excusing hitn 
Keif from his commit 
Buying that he nishe<l 
alone for a little time. He 
entered hia room, locked tlie 
d<.>ur, flung himself on a coucli, 
and was just giving way to a 
series of bitter self-reproachex, 
when there was a knock at the 
d.ior. tie jumped up in a 
niumeut and opened it. 

"Did I not tell you that 1 
wished to be alone!" he ei- 
obimed, when he saw standing 
bihind the apologetic waiter 
the figure of a young Udy i^ 



"She 



gIVl 






,' said the wi 
said that she must see you." 

" Mar I not see you, Mr. 
Wilkea'?" aaid the lady, in a 
Voice which thrilled him like 
an electric shock. 

"Certainly," he ropli:jd. 
" Waiter, it is all right." 

Tlie waiter, marrelling at this 
sudden change, closed the door, 
leaving Mr. Wllketi face to 
face with Ladv ^iiid. Slie 
threw back the veil with 
which she had concealed her 
identity. Sb^ w:ks in deep 



"Mr. "ivilkV she said, "I 
came to thank you for the "yes, MR, wii 

gallaat fight you made. You 

promised me you would not flinch, and nobly you have kept 
your word." 

The candotir with which the girl addremed him wns as 
frankincense a .cl niyrrli to the wounded and mortified eelf- 
luvt! of the defeated candidate. 




" It is very good of you to say so, ae taid. " I have 
ton wondered if you ever thought of it all." 

"I have been," said she, 
" through deep waters. -My 
]>'or father was dead before! 
( ould reach home, and my 
I: other, who was in weak health, 
never survived the shock of mr 
father's death. Both my parents 
a:3 dead," she said. "Know- 
ing what the result would be, I 
hurried over to be with you at 
I he declaration of the poll, and 
to assure you bow grateful I 
tcel for the splendid manner in 
wiiich you have redeemed your 
j.ledge. Now it will not do for 
me to stay here any longer. 
Good-bye," she said, extending 
her hand. 

He took it in both of his, but 
diil not let it go. 

" Lady j£uid, I cannot tell 
you alt you have been to me 
iturlng this struggle. Whenever 
1 felt mclined to flinch, it was 
your example that steeled my 
resolution and carried me 
tiirough the whole of this cam- 
jiaign. But," he added with a 
liitter smile, "it has all ended 
ill nothing, as you see. A ma- 
ji.rily of over two tbousand fur 
i.iird Bulstrode. How the enemy 

" Nay," said Lady ^nid, 
" was it not better to have 
fi.'ught and lost, aa you have 
done, than to have fought and 
\\\m with Fftulmann?" 

"Fot^ve me. Lady £nid," 
he said. "Do not go yet; as 
yiiu have been my only inspira- 
li'in, you are now the only con- 
Milation that I have. I cannot 
tell you what your words have 
been to me until this day. 1 
was in the depths of detpair 
when you entered, and now 
yc>ur friendship has given me 
H new hope, and eTen,*'headded, 
"an aspiratioa of which, if I 
tiH^ht " He hesitated. 

Lady jEnid, who had oerer 
l<H>ked more channing in her 
life, laughed a merry little 
inugh. "Keally, Mr. W^ilkes^, 
1 must be going. I cannot 
e;,ind here all day." 

Then there came into his 
eyes a wondrous look of yearn- 
ing tenderness and almost des- 
pair i and as she was Imving the 
he cried after her, "Oh, 



And Lady -Enid, who 
in for one moment, and with a 
said demurely, " Yes, Mr. Wilki 



Lady ^nid, may 1 
just closing the 



doOT, looked 
'inkle in her rcgulsb eyes, 
you may ! " 



She closed the door, and i:i a".other moment ww gone. 



A Shooting Party in the Highlands. 



59 




'• Ho a stalker ! " rejilieil Clifs- 
liiilin coiiteinirtuouslv, "Can aik 
elephant Walk? Ho could n.. 
mure stalk than tlic Prince of 
W«le« — fur th« same reanon. Af- 
the Prince had his drives in 
the Mar Forest, it wan HarmerV 
anibitiirti to du as bia Royal 
Iliifhiie)!!!. That, they eay, war 
Bi tiie bottinn of «11 hia work up 
in theHC ]«rti>. He ui>ed to say, 
' 'I'liB Piince has a drive once a 
year, but I ^ball have a forect 
big ODOiigb to have a drive tf- 
gikid as the Printe's every day 
in the seamn ; ' and so he did. 
'Hie Prince, [iwr man, was not 
rich enough to afibid auch a 
luxury ; and as ic was with thei 
Prince, BO it seems to be with 



iNtnkei)!, and traderB and million- 
aires from Anierica, with tho 
result thai] that one after 
niiotlier they have eniM' down 
like our HVhlaud lairds, and 
the LowlatHls will have to bear 
what the Highlands harie borne 
— the cunw of the oomingof the 
[ihiiwrat." 
"Oh, come, come! " «aid Hil- 
talk 



s all ^ 



' well t 



I ]iitAJ teught Mr. Harnier that it wiut not only in 
It litiHre h Jew cannet make his living. . A |>Ttit.ly 
riM B y-lw'liHWt have raid fur law vera' hilU and cintsi anil 
tUfof i»hat^." 

"Xhe; dc lay," »aid Cblshohn, "tliat first and last he 
matt hMt dropped more than a ouaiter of a rnillion t<( 
nomy tn'thhiCOUntty; and with all Mm driven, he never 
•hot two hundred head of deer in aiiv single rear. ' His deer 
mnat luve coat him about £100 a head— a defel of money 
for»atkgt* ' 

" Y*,"«rid',8ilTertongiie, "b(it it was his 'fancy, and if 
ht-aaoa eat Wa. mind upua athinghewuuM ftet-it if mouty 
eunld purcbase iL He used to say that he luid. never met a 
wopian whom h» could Lot buy ; and as it wan with wunieD, 
M> it waa wUh land oc with any other mortal thing." 

** Wa* he mucLiif a stalker ? " asked Milmau. 



ab-iiit him as being ■ oune.'but 
he [lays hi»WBy, and vtsry liber- 
ally t.w." 

" He has money enough," 'sail! 
dd Chishulm, "and he Is liberal 
with it, 'no doubt; but hai not 
one iif your own pueta aaid — 

III farce the kad, to basteniDg 

ills a prey, . 
VhfTc wealth accuvulatca, and 

Time waa when these atraths and 
glens were peopled with a bnve 
and hardy race ; where are they 
nu«'/ Still you can mark; the 
site of Uieir little crofla on the 
hillaides by the superior verdure 
of the grass to whic)i lite deer 
pome down in the winter time. Here and there yuu ina^-' 
Hie the ruins of their humble shielings and traces of their 
gardens. But the fluwers of the forest are a' waa'd awa'. 
and the brave men and fitti women who fur a tjiouaaod 
years < {ieo)iled the glens liave vanished like the .mist of the 
morning," 

The Lftrty now reached the " Siratlifarair Araii," where 
they halted for refreshment. After a brief rest they turned 
to the left, dp the hill wliich lesjis to tlie road through 
(lien Ciatroich. On the hillside they met a gillie coming 
down, whom Chjaholm accosted. "Have you English? 

" Yes," said the man, " but I prefer Gaelic." 
While the two were talking the younger men pursued th«r 
journey. They admired the solitude and sombre niagniScence 
of the tilenl waste. With the exception of the gillie's cottage 



6o 



The Splendid Paupers. 



which they had just passed on their right, there was no sign 
. of. habitation visible. They pressed on until they came to 
' vhere the stream running through the glen widened into a 
' miniature lake, which lay like a mirror in the heart of the 
valley. It was difficult to realise that it was water, for the 
mountain on the further side was reflected in the tranquil 
•depths with such verisimilitude that the reality could 
liardly have been more vivid. They sat down by the road- 
side to enjoy the spectacle until such time as old Chisholm 
should overtake them. In a few minutes he came striding 
along. 

" Oh,** said he, " you are looking at the eye of the glen, 
and you do well! lsn*t it a pity, now, that a place so 
l>eautiful; should have been given over to the wilderness ? 
Time was when in this solitary glen there were no fewer 
than forty-five families lining, and Uving comfortably, where 
that gillie alone is left. Thirty-three farmers there were in 
easy circumstances, and twelve cottage families besides. It 
was a Catholic glen when there was any one in it, and at 
one time there were as many as nine priests in the Catholic 
Church who were reared and educated in the glen. Now 
the deer cpme down in the winter time to nibble the grass 
around the deserted crofts. I can remember the time,** con- 
tinued the old mai), as they resumed their walk up the glen, 
*•* when there were no fewer than twenty-six Glen Cannich 
men holding commissions in her Majesty's army. I some- 
times wonder whether, if the war clouds gathered round the 
cliffs of Albion, and her enemies were to encompass her 
around, it may not come to pass that Britam may 
look and long for her Ilighlandmen, and look and long in 
vain. The recruiting sergeant would find small business in 
Glen Cannich to-day," said he, with a bitter smile, " unless 
he could enlist red deer and corby crows as soldiers.** 

" It is astonishing,** remarked Mil man, " how you come 
across traces of these Highland officers all over the 
Empire.** 

"There would have been no Empire,'* said Chisholm 
proudly, "without the Highlandmen. A man from this 
glen died as Governor of the Gold Coast in Africa, and 
halloa-dozen Macraes and Chisholms died in Grambia and 
Sierra Leone, the white man's grave. One died at Quatre 
Bras in the last days of the great Napoleon. Very few have 
laid their bones to rest among their native hills. These 
glens are rough and rude, and the Highlanders were not 
brought up on feather b^s or with silver spoons in their 
mouths ; but you will search in vain the crowded slums of 
your teeming cities for as stalwart a breed, and one as ready 
to maintain the honour of their country and the safety of 
their fatherland.** 

The friends were silent for a time, brooding over the 
memories which the old man's narrative had awakened. 
- - " And now,** said Milman, " to whom does it belong ? ** 

" The forest,** replied Chisholm, " is divided. There is 
no longer any lord among the deer like Harmer, although 
hi still keejw a trifle of 6' >,000 or 60,000 acres as a kind of 
preserve for the deer on the western coast, but he shoots no 
more here, and the deer are free to live and breed as they 
please. A couple of rich brewers take a large handful 
of the laud between them, a Jew baron has just taken 
1 0,000 acres of forest on the east, and an American 
millionaire is building a shooting-box a little further to the 
north. They are only here for a few weeks in the year; 
for the rest of the time the land is given up to the wilderness 
and the deer, with a few idle keepers and gillies sauntering 
about to see that no child of man sets his foot where red 
deer roam. And if I may ask you,** said old Chisholm, 
looking up suddenly, " where may you be going this after- 
noon?** 

" Oh, we are going through the glen,** said Milman. " We 



are going to Westlands Castle, but it will take us all our 
time, for it is some miles from here.** 

" It inay be," md he, " they will be sending horses for 
you. And so you are going to Westiands ? Then maybe 
you know the fair leddy who brought Westiands as her 
dower to her husband — Lady Muritl Eastland that was." 

" Oh, yea,** said Silvertongue. " I knew her before she 
v/as married." 

" Lady Muriel,** said Chisholm, "has a sweet face and a 
good heart, and who knows but through her the curse may 
pass that has hung for four generations over her family." 

"Nonsense!" said Milman. "You don*t mean to any 
that the Eastland family is under a curse ? " 

"Oh, I suppose you are like the rest of this sceptical 
generation ; but we of the older race, who were cradled 
among the glens and learned our creed among the moun- 
tains, know that many things of which you in Qie Lowlands 
make light, and even deny, do exist. But ever since the fatal 
day when, more than a hundred years since, the then Duke 
of Eastland made the clearance in Western Inverness, which 
to this day glows like burning fire in the memory of every 
Highlandman, there has been a curse on that family. As 
in the days of the exodus, when Pharaoh would hot let his 
people go, the firstborn was slain, so it is to-day. No Duke 
of Eastland has ever been succeeded by his firstborn for a 
hundred years. Heaven forbid," said the old man devoutly, 
" that I, a sinful man, should speak lightly concerning the 
workings of God's providence ; but he would be worse than 
a heathen and an infidel who could not see the awful work- 
ings of Divine justice. When the Du^e contemplated tl^e 
clearance by which he made a wilderness of this country, he 
began by inducing the firstborn to enlist in the king*s service ; 
and he promised them, if they would go with their claymores 
and their muskets to fight the battles of the king, their 
families should aye remain in secure possession of their little 
crofts. But no sooner did these brave lads march off, with 
the bagpipes playing and their eyes filled with tears for ^e 
dear ones they left behind them — no sooner were they scattered 
far and wide over many a distant land, than the Duke 
forswore his solemn word, and turned the graybidred 
grandsire and the widowed mother and the helpless child 
out of their homes, and drove them aboard the ships which 
carried them, the exiles of despair, far across the sea to Canada 
and Australia. From that time to this the curse has never 
left the family of the Eastlands, and never will until there 
shall arise in Eastland Castle someone who will put the 
jieople back upon the land from which they were driven, 
and once more reclaim those glens from the sheep and the 
deer, and gladden the sight of the wayfarer with the blue 
peat reek rising from the crofter*s cottage." 

" Really," said Silvertongue, " have the firstborn always 
died for a century ? " 

" No Duke of Eastland has ever been succeeded by his 
firstborn for a century," said Chisholm; "but it may be 
that Lady Muriel, bless her bonny face, may break the evil 
spelL I am a man of peace," said the old Highlander 
thoughtfully ; " all war seems to me murder, but for us in 
the Highlands there is such a thing as the curse of peace. 
In the olden times, when clan was making war against clan, 
and when every Highland chief for safety, as well as for 
honour and glory, was bound to rear as many fighting men 
as the land could raise, there was no fear of depopu&tion. 
War peopled these glens and kept them full oi a sturdy 
breed; but when peace came, and the claymore was put 
into its sheath, and men cared more for the yellow gold than 
they did for their fellow man, then the curse fell upon the 
land, and it was discovered that the land which could rear 
and feed soldiers could not provide sufficient food for 
cultivators. Then the clearances came, and whole glens 



Messrs. Glogoul and Faulmann. 



6i 



mn made deeoliite, and one shepherd tended »heep where a 
doEsn fannBteods had found room enough and to Bpare. 
Then the «heep made way for the deer. It is as the prophet 
■aw it in other lands : ' the cormorant and the bittern pobmhb 
It; the owl alBO, and the raven dwell in it; and He has 
stretched out upon it a line of confusion and the atones of 
eroptioeBS. They call the nobles thereof to the kingdom, 
bul none are there, aod all her princes are nothing. And 
tiiome come up in her palaces, nettles and brambles in the 
fortresses thereof ^ and it is an habitation of dragons and a 
court for owla. The wild boasts of the desert meet with 
the wild beasts of the island, and the screech owl also rents 
there and finds for herself a place of rest. There the 
Tulturea are gathered, every one with his male.'" 

CSii^olm stopped abruptly. " And as it has been with 
na," he said, " it will be with you. Of the curse which has 
eaten into this land you also are to have your share." 

CHAPTER ir. 

MXSSRB. QLOOOUL AND FAULHAKH. 
tN a luxuriously-fumiahed suite of apartmenls in Pall 
"Y Hall we have the well arranged Arm uf Messrs. Glogoul 
4> and Faulmann, wrecliers, as they describe themoelven, 
' of ths social system. It was in accordance wiih 
Glogoul'a cynical humour that he chose this term. In 
reality, he luod lo say, " We ought to be called salvors. We 
did not wreck the system. It was a crazy old craft, and 
nothing could have saved it from the breakers to which it 
had drifted." 

Certainly the firm of Glogoul and Faulmann had done 
nothing to bring it there. All that they did was to 
endeavour to save as much out of the wreck as they could, 
and to this laudable purpose they were devoting the whole 
of their united wits. 

Dr. Glogoul had aged somewhat since we left him as 
locum leneni of the medical adviser at the hos]ii(al in 
Garlam. He had carried out his intention, and h»d made 
hia way to China ve^ shortly after the outbreak of the war 
between China and Japan. He had not been three days at 
Sfaanghiu when he met an old college chum, who intjuduced 
him to a young Chinese Mandarin of great repute and of 
immense wealth, who was believed to be the coming 
under a new regime. 

Ping Yang Yaloo— for that was the name of the hi 
functionary to whom Glogoul was iutroduced — was 
! man after Ologoul's own heart. No man could 
, destitute of those disagreeable impedimenta which people 
who are still in their mythologies are fond of labelling moral 
acniples. Ping Tang Yaloo was a Materialist of the 
moat nncompromiHing type. It did not even occur to him 
that right uid wrong, immortality and duly, were other 
than mere phrases as meaningless as the names of the gods 
of ancient Greece. They were pretty playlhingo, invented 
by Western knaves for the purpose of cheating Western 
fools. He waa not a pure^bred Chinaman, but there was a 
■train in him of a Portugese half-caste, wlio had been the 
concubine of his grandfather during his sojourn in Macao. 
His eyea were not quite so oblique as the pure-bred 
Mongolian, and the European strain in his blood allowed 
him to assimilate Western ideas with greater facility than 
would otherwise have been possible. 

Such a man Dr. Glogoul waa delighted to recognise as 
the type far which he had been seekiiig. Pinj; Yang Yaloo 
was equally pleased with Olceoul, although, being a man 
of few words, he contented himself with appointing the 
American specialist as medical director of the cotton factories 
which he waa then beginning to build. Ping Yang Yaloo's 
auUkraity at Court waa conuderable, but it was nothing 



compared with the absolute power he poaaeased as propietor 
and mlllionwre in the province in which he bved. Ping 
Yang Yaloo's word was law. Whom he would he slew, and 
whom he would he saved alive. In the two year* during 
which Glogoul served the Mandarin as medical inspector, 
he treated the whole of the unfortunates of the province as. 
raw material for his pathological experimenla. On only ote- 
occasion had he any trouble with his master. After a con- 
eiderabte number of experimenta, conducted with inex- 
haustible patience, Glogoul succeeded in identifying the 
bacillus of cholera, and then introduced it into the well from 
which the vill^e of Cheekin drew its water supply. The 
result was an epidemic of cholera, which carried t^ about 
one-third of the population. Glogoul was in ecstasiee ; but 
when Ping Yang Yaloo found that his rente bad fallen off 
by one-third, he gave orders for the betant decaMt«tion of 
the doctor. Fortunately for Glogoul, bis college cnnm, who 




was acting as private secretary to Kng Yang Yaloo, 
explained that difHculties might result if Glogoul were 
beheaded, and he further poinUd out the immense advan- 
tage that would accrue to Ping Tang Yaloo in the future, 
now that he had a physician sufficiently skilful to poison a 
whole village without incurring any responsibility. Pinp 
Yang Taloo was mollified, recalled his order, hut intimateil 
to Glogoul that experiments of such a wholesale nature 1ia<l 
better be conducted on neighbouring eatat«H, not on those 
which Mid him renL Glogoul took the hint, and there 
was no furtlier hitch. 

He succeeded in discovering metbods by which the 
bacilli, not only of cholera, but of many other deadly 
diseases, could be preserved in ice for an indefinite pencil, 
and when thawed out show no loss of vitality. It 
was therefore perfectly easy for him to introduce an 
epidemic wherever the population became too dense, or 
wherever it waa necessary to dimtnisb the over-presaure of 
the beds in any public hospital. 

His zeal, however, for patboli^cal research somewhat 
cooled, and after a time he began to tbink that the Western 



62 



The Splendid Paupers. 



stpecialistH, whom be had previouHly held in such sovereign 
contempt because they had forsaken research for money- 
making, were, after all, wiser than their own generation. 
• " Pathology," he said to his friend one day, " is all vwy 
well, but there's no money in it. I liave arrived at a perfect 
knowledge of the way to poison human beings in twenty 
different methods, without any risk of detection ; but, thanks 
to the stupid prejudices of mankind, what use can I make of 
this knowledge? There is no millionaire or ])hilanthropi8t, 
as far as I have seen, sufficiently emancipated from prejudice 
to i>ay me milHons for pixnlucing an epidemic in some great 
over-crowdiid city, although it may ba demonstrated tiiat 
such an epidemic would contribute more to human progress 
and social welfare than any other means devisable by man." 

** Well," said his friend, " if poisoning Ixxlies does not pay, 
poisoning minds is profitable. When I left England, the 
only investment that paid 70 per cent, was the Empire 
Theatre, which ma<ie its dividend by providing a prostitutes' 
promenade and drinking-bar ; but a fiiuty-hearted County 
Council refused its license, so thai avenue of money-making 
is closed. But what do you say to the Stock P^xchange ? " 

" I never was a gambler," said Glogoul. " Besides, I 
should like to utilise the. aptitude 1 have obtained by my 
study of human criminology in whatever pri>fession 1 take 
up. The dream of my life is to invent a new drink that 
would be pleasanter t) taste than champagne, but would 
intoxicate as rapidly as brandy, and would be as fatal as 
opium. If I could discover that nectar of the gods, and 
could hold it to the parched lips of j)oor, hard-driven 
Immanity, I should become as rich as a brewer, and, at the 
«ame time, enjoy the exquisite satisfaction of knowing, as I 
watched the increase in the death-rate, that I was appreciably 
diminishing the sum total of human misery." 

** Get out with you ! " said his companion. " Precious 
little you care about the misery of the world, and although 
cant may answer on the small scale, there is not enough 
money in it to moke it worth your while taking it up at vour 
age." 

Ping Yang Yaloo's factories, meanwhile, were grov»'ing 
apace. He had all the latest machinery brought from 
England and America. He had almost at his back door a 
great mountain of coal that simjily required quarrying. A 
whole province in the south was planted with cotton, under 
the supervision of the ablest experts that could be procuretl 
in the Southern States ; and Glogoul could see plainly that 
with the continued fall in the value of silver, and the 
enormous advantages in the 8hai)e of inexhaustible and cost- 
less fuel, of soil ahiiQst virgin for the production of cotton, 
and labour which could b© had at a penny per day. Ping 
Yang Yaloo was destined to become the great cotton producer 
of the world. As he watched the factories going up, one after 
the other, and observed the finished product which issued 
from the mills at prices far lower than that at which it 
could be shipped for export from Manchester or Liverpool, 
Glogoul saw daylight. 

Shanghai would burst up Lancashire. Ping Yang Yaloo 
would be the cotton king of the world. In five years, 
Chinese cottons would dominate the English market in the 
same way that Indian wheat rules the price of corn in the 
English market. Limcashire mills would become as profitless 
as Essex clay lands. 

*• The Yellow Man with the White Money," said Glogoul 
to his friend, " is the coming king. The White Man with 
the Yellow Money cannot stand against him for a moment. 
Asia is going to be avenged on Europe. Already the Indian 
Ryot is avenging the conquest of India by compelling his 
conquerors to starve for want of employment in what usetl 
to be the granary of England ; and to-morrow it will be the 



turn of our pig-tailed friends. What with opium wars and the 
like, we have a tolerably long score to wij)e off before their 
account is cleared. As India has ruined Essex, Shanghai will 
crack up Lancashire, and when Lancashire is burst up, the 
industrial supremacy of Englaiid vanishes. Henceforth, that 
tight little island will have to reconcile itself as best it can to 
its altered destinies. Its Im])enal strength depends upon its 
economic position. On the day that Ping Yang Yaloo under- 
sells Manchester, and undersells her in the neutral market, 
the British Empire will have gone up the spout. It is all as 
plain as the nose upon your face, and there will be the 
greatest scramble the world has ever seen for the assets of 
John Bull and I'o., who will have to go into liquidation." 

" Well," said his friend, " what are you going to do 
about it?" 

"Have you not read," said Dr. Glogoul mockingly, 
"where the carcase is there the eagles are gathered 
together ?'' 

" 1 should have thought," said his friend, " the text 
would have suited you better had it said vultures." 

" The translation may be wrong. Anyhow, I think I see 
my way." 

The next mail brought him a letter which convinced him 
that he was right. It was from his old acquaintance, 
Faulmann, of the Patent White Lead Works. Faulmann 
had been much impressed with GlogouFs smartness, with 
the quickness of his perception, and his absolute lack 
of scruple. When, therefore, the scandalous Turkish 
monoix>ly was cancelled, and the Patent White Lead 
Company closed its works, Mr. Faulmann found himself 
with ample capital at his disposal, and without any 
opi)ortunity, calling or profession in which to utilise his 
restless energies. His observations in Blankshire had 
convinced him that the landed interest was practically on 
the verge of liquidation. What with mortgages, settle- 
ments, encumbrances of all kinds, it was impossible with 
wheat at 18s. a quarter, and tending downwards, for the 
landed aristocracy to keep their heads above water. 
The wreck of the whole system was only a question of a 
very few years. 

At the same time, the astute Faulmann was not blind to 
the immense residential advantages of these immense estates 
which were certain to be thrown on the market. The idea 
struck him that if he could find a partner it would be 
possible for them to form a salvage syndicate for the purpose 
of buying up all the possessions of the landed interest as they 
came upon the market. Faulmann had extensive connections 
on the Continent and in the Republic among rich Jew 
financiers, who regarded this country as a new tLod better 
Land of Canaan, owing to the absence of any social pre- 
judices and the justice of our laws. But Faulmann was quite 
cute enough to see that the money power of the future was 
to be found, not in the West, but in the East, where China 
and Japan, at a bound, had reached a leading position among 
the great powers, and were competing keenly on equal terms 
in the markets of the world. India had long commanded 
the wheat market, and her producers were alrmdy beginning 
to make their influence felt in America and Europe. The 
African trade Bombay had almost entirely annexed, but the 
great power of the future was China, with its vast and 
undeveloped resources. This great colossus had been rudely 
awakened from the sleep of ages by the thunder-hammer of 
war, and the millionaire of the future, in Faulmann's 
opinion, was much more likely to be found on the banks « f 
the Yellow River than by the side of the Hudson, or on the 
shores of Lake Michigan. 

" Nothing can stand against us," said he, " as long as 
silver stands at its present ratio to gold. The Yellow man 



A Dinner Party at Westlands Castle, 



63 



with his depreciated silver will beat the White man with 
his appreciated go !d clean out of the field. If, therefore, I 
have to undertake the liquidation of the landeil interest, I 
must have, as a partner, some one who knows the Yellow 
World.'' 

Suddenly he remembere<i his old acquaintance, Glogoul. 
Glogoul had gone to China. Glogoul, he had reason to know 
from occasional items in the ]>ai)er8, had found a domicile in 
the country of the greatest of all Mandarins of the new school. 
Glogoul, then, was the very man he wanted. 

It was Faulmann's fashion to lose no time when he had 
made up his mind, and the very next mail carried out to 
Glogoul a long letter, setting forth the financial advantages 
which lay within the grasp of a syndicate which was placed 
a ckeval of the two continents, in touch with the moneyed 
Semites of Eurojie, and the coming millionaires of China, 
India and Japan. 

When Glogoul <];ot the letter he read it through, and then 
went down to his friend. 

** Thompson," he said, " you do not believe in Providence 
any more than I do ; but, if we were still in our mythologies, 
what would you say to that as a Providential sign-iwst ? " 

Thompson read the letter carefully, glanceil at the sig- 
nature, and handed it back to Glogoul. 

" Smart fellow that,** said he. 

*• Yes," said Glogoul. " Got a telegram form ? " 

His friend handed him a blank cablegram, which Glogoul 
filled in. 

•* What are you saying ? " 

Glogoul read out — " Accept. Leave next mail." 

And thus it came to i)as8 that the great firm of Glogoul 
and Faulmann was established, and, as might be expected, 
considering the character of tlie i)artners, it flourished 
exceedingly. A very lucky deal with two or three 
heavily encumbered estates, which were desired by a 
certain baron of the Bourse with whom Faulmann had 
dealings in old time, enabled them to start in business, with 
a prestige, and a capital which they very soon multiplied 
many times. To them the imi^ocunious noble and 
heavily mortgaged landlord went as their only hope. The 
** Splendid Paupers " cursed them in their hearts as a 
couple of villains, but were compelled to admit that no native 
firm would pay them anything like the price that they 
could get from Glogo\il and Faulmann. They did 
btisiness' with high and low, rich and poor, and it was 
a* standing joke of Faubnann's that he would never be 
content until he had bought Sandringham. He had a friend 
in O'nstantiiiople, he said, an Armenian Paslia, who had 
taken a gr^t fancy to the place, and as soon as His Royal 
Highness was r^dy to nart, he had a purchaser ready. 
Indeed, it might be saia that this was true oonoeming 
almost every country house in the kingdom. Famous 
old castles like Alnwick, lordly nleasure-houses like Dun- 
robhi, romantic halls like Haddon, and famous historic 
paUces like Warwick Castle, were all marked in the record 
list. They had purchasers rea<ly waiting for all those 

f)ropertie8, and more besides. Famous pictmre galleries, 
ibraries which had been accumulated by the patient labour 
and lavish expenditure of generations ; priceless heirlooms, 
and all the innumerable treasures which wealthy nobles 
had been accumulating for centuries, were di8jx)sed of 
beforehand in anticipation. Hence, the moment it w;is 
announced that the Duke had sold Chats worth, every one 
knew, that the sale must have been efiected through Glogoul 
and Faulmann. 

And so it was ; at this moment Messrs. Glogoul and 
Faulmann were the undisputed owners of Chatsworth 
Palatie; and not of Chatsworth merely, but of all the 



Duke's estates in Derbyshire. Hardwicke Hall went With 
Chatsworth ; of all the broad acres which the Duke owned 
in Derby there did not remain to him one, with the 
exception of the narrow ]>lot which lay behind the church 
on the hill at Edensor where the Cavendishes lie buried. 



CHAPTER III. 

A DIKNER-PARTY AT WESTLANDS CASTLE. 

jtr-^^^'^^^^^S CASTLE was always full of visitors in 
I f 1 September. Sir Artegal Haddon and Lady Muriel — 
^^^ f<jr Sir Artegal had married the only daughter of 
the Duke of Eastland, and by her had come into 
possession of the Highland proi)erty of Westlands-^kept 
much com|)any then. Westlands Castle was charmingly 
situated on the western coast of Inverness. At first sight 
the castle, with its quaint turrets and picturesque contour, 
suggested to the observer that Abbotsford had suddenly 
been caught up from the banks of the Tweed and set down 
])erfect and complete on the edge of the Atlantic surge. A 
closer examination showed that Westlands had a beauty all 
its own, and an antiquity to boot to which Abbotsford could 
lay no claim. From of old the castle had been the central 
citadel of the feudal aristocracy in northern Scotland. 

The traditions of the aristocracv, of ancient nobles 
linked to the soil by the close ties of tradition and of service, 
had lingered longer in Westlands than elsewhere in the island. 
The laird and his lady were for all practical purposes the king 
and the queen of the district in which they resided. For 
generation after generation the Highlander tending his sheep 
or tilling his little croft in the west could see no personage 
on the horizon that loomed more largely than the proprietor 
of Westlands. Although of late years the spirit of unrest 
and of revolt had spread among the crofters in th^ district, 
and they had signified their independence by returning a 
candidate of their own in opjxjsition to a scion of the noble 
house, there was nevertheless deep in the hearts of the people 
a conviction that in times of stress, or when duty called, 
or danger there was no living man around whom they would 
rally witL such confidence as the heir to the traditions and 
the glories of Westlands. 

Sir Artegal Haddon, who by marriage had entered into 
the circle of this curious survival of medievalism, preserved 
beneath a somewhat cynical demeanour a keen susceptibility 
to all that was romantic and glorious in the associations 
which surrounded his new position. Although Conservative 
and aristocratic by lineage and conviction, he had a perfectly 
open mind. To him all governments were more or less a 
pis cMer — ^necessary evils of which the wise man would 
make the best. There was a certain dash of the Prince of 
Denmark in his character, but only a dash, for nothing was 
further from his resolute and chivalrous character than the 
habitual indecision of Hamlet. If we must look for his 
prototype in the fields of poetic romance, we shall find the 
original rather in the splendid picture which Spenser has 
given of Sir Artegal, the Knight of Justice, in the deathless 
pages of the " Faerie Queen." There was a frank simplicity 
about his noble nature which endeared him to his friends, 
and even his ix>litical opponents admitted grudgingly that, 
although he was horribly mistaken in all his ix)litical 
opinions, they always knew where to find Sir Artegal, and 
that his devotion to the public welfare was never affected 
by a single thought of his own personal interests 

In Lady Muriel Sir Artegal had found a partner well fitted 
to supplement his character and to redress the balance which 
in his own case was somewhat overweighted by a philosophie 
scepticism. Lady Muriel was young, beautiful and enthu- 
siastic. Although bom in the south country, she was always 
in sympathy a daughter ot the Highlands. Just as Lady 



64 



The Splendid . Paupers. 



AberdeeD, tracBplantM to Ireland, became more Iriah than hereelf to realise tlie prayerof the Nazarene for HU dieciplee 

the Irish, ao Lai]; Muriel, transplaDted from BUokBhire to that the; might have life, and have it more abundantly, for 

iDventeas, became more Gaelic than the Gaels. the humble aad induxtriouB population which Uved in frugal 

She was young, but frail, for her physique was the very independence on the Weatland hills. To vary the monotony 

antithesis of the Jtaniboyanf vigour and rude health of her of their existence, to increase their mBt«riELl resources, and to 

friend Lady .^nid, whose marriage with Mr. Edmund give them a fresh interest in life, she founded the Rural 

Wilkes had taken place in 1896. Bum to great possessions. Industries Society, which brought her into close and human 

' ■ - " ' relationship with 

crofte 
crofter's wife in 

the county. She 

with tiieir aspira- 
tions, and was the 
common nerve 
centre through 
which they all 
communicated 
with each other 
and le«med to 
understand that 
they all 
members one oi 
another. It was 
with Westlandii 
under Lady Mu- 




gueslA, chiefly 
young people, 
whose tAlk was 
of stags and of 
the delights of 
outdoor life. At 

__. first, Lady Muriel 

innumerable guests there were few whom she did not had been somewhat pained by the continual t«lk about 
make to feel that their coming was a separate and distinct stags killed ; but she had overcome that patdoiuible weak- 
pleasure to herself; and within a narrow circle, mostly n™.. ^f ii..mon r.«tiirn onii i;«(onmi with tlm anrarBnt anliiiir 



LADY UDBIEL, fiXXDIQ HIK KKTEB, 



among the young men who were coming 
ercised a subtle influence of inspiration which to many of 
them was almost as a spell fn>m another world. But it 
was in her county, among the clansmen and crofters whose 
ancestors had formerly fillowed the Dukes of Eastland to 
battle, that she appeared at her best. 
Half unconsciously, led by a divine instinct, she set 



1 nature, and listened mth the apparent ardour 
of a schoolgirl to the thouaandfold variant of how some noble 
stag was broi^ht down by the bullet of his pursuer. Yet 
BOmetimes a far-away, wistful, yearning look would creep over 
her features, until, as one of her enthusiastic admirers declared, 
you could see an angel look out from her lambent eyes. Sit 
Artegal was a deer-stalker with the best of them, and it cost 
him no effort to keep up his interest ia the conrersatico. 



A Dinner Party at Westlands Castle. 



65 



sterling, who was one of the party, had never fired a gun 
in his life, and found some difiiculty in concealing the fact 
that the continual talk of slaughter bored hira. He remarked 
on the opposite side of the table a lady of great vivacity an«l 
of striking features, whose high spirits and pleasant chatter 
seemed to diffuse an atmosphere round her eud of the table 
which did not derive all its glow from the zest of the chase. 
When dinner was over, and the ladies had retired, Sterling 
took an early opportunity of leaving the table, where the 
conversation was now almost entirely devoted to deer, in 
order to follow the ladies. Lady Muriel, seeing him enter, 
at once came forward. 

**0h, Mr. Sterling, I wish particularly to intr<Kluce 
you to Madame Olga. To tell you the simple truth," 
added Lady Muriel in an aside, " I do not think I could 
have prevaile<l upon her to come so tar north exce])t- 
ing to see you. She is jwlitical to her finger-tii)H, and 
when she heard you were coming she put off all other 
engagements." 

" I shall be delighted," said Sterling. ** In fact, I came 
in purposely to ask you this favour." 

In a few minutes Sterling and Madame Olga were 
merrily chatting as if they had known each other froni 
childhood. They had so many friends in common that it 
was a marvel that they had never met before. 

** I really believe," she said, " that you must purposely 
have kept out of my way." 

"Surely you do not think that I could be so f«K»liKh V" 

** I don't know," she said archly. " Sometimes there is a 
greater compliment in avoiding than in seeking acquaintance. 
I know one of your Ministers who for years made it ipiite a 
duty to avoid meeting me. He seeme<l to tin<l out by stmie 
kind of instinct whenever I was invited to a dinner-party he 
was asked to attend, for of cours3 I was as anxious to meet 
him as he was to avoid meeting me. But, invariably, just 
before the dinner-party assembled, our host received a letter 
from the Minister saying that owing to the serious indisyjosi- 
tion of his wife the dear man was regretfully obliged to a^k 
to be excused." 

** Wives are convenient sometimes," said Sterling. 

** Yes," said Madame Olga, " especially when they recover 
as rapidly as they fall ill. But tell me, is it true that you 
are at last being devoured by the Jews? They have eateii 
up Austria entirely ; there is not a morsel left. France is 
almost as bad, and in Germany they are in vain endeavouring 
to stem the tide. Now I hear that your country is <lis- 
appearing down the voracious throat of the insatiable 
Semite." 

** I don't know," said Sterling ; " we are passing under the 
regime of the plutocrat, but all plutocrats are not Jews." 

"No, indeed," said Lady Muriel ;" have you heard the 
story about Chatsworth ? " 

"What," said Madame Olga, "that splendid palace in 
Derbyshire? It has not gone to the Jews, has it ? " 

" No," said Lady Muriel, " worse than that." 

" That cannot be," said Madame Olga. 

" What would you say to a Chinaman ? " 

" What, a yellow man with a pigtail ! Well, come, that is 
rather worse. The Jew at leaat is a Theist, whereas your 
picturesque barbarian from China — well, what has he to do 
with Chatsworth ? " 

" I have just had a letter from my cousin the Duchess, who 
tells me that a horrible rumour is circulating to the effect 
that Chatsworth, which as you know was some time ago 
bought by Glogoul and Faulmann, the estate agents, has 
been sold by them to a Chinese Mandarin of immense 
wealth." 

" With half-a-dozen wives, I suppose," said a lively young 
lady, who evidently found ten hours' salmon fishing in a 



mountain stream insufficient to exhaust her nervo\is 
energy. 

"As for ix>lygamy," said the Russian disdainfully, 
"that is a mere phrase. But a Chinese Mandarin as 
the lord of Chatsworth! —that will proiluce some interest- 
ing complications indeed. I declare," she added briskly, 
** it is a new argument in su])port of my favourite theme, 
the Anglo-Russian alliance. Ever since the Japanese took 
Korea " 

"And you the ])rovince of Manchuria?" 

" Oh, well, never mind," she said ; " but ever since tliat 
time ii has seemed to me that the Chinese factor constituted 
a new and [Mjwerful argument in favour of the Ans^lo- 
Russian alliance. They will eat us up, these barbarians, 
unless we stand together. United, we conquer ; dividetl, we 
fall. It is a good maxim, is it not? And now that the 
(.'elestial has encamj el himself in the very centre of England, 
the truth will begin to come home to you. Do you not 
think so ? " she asked. 

" 1 don't know," said Sterling gloomily ; " it is an ugly 
development." 

** But why," said the Russian, " why shoidd the Duke 
have sold a jxilaco which is not only an heirloom but a 
museum of heirl(K»ms?" 

" The Duke has been very badly hit of late. Ever 
since the new death duties were in^wsed in 1894 they 
seem to have preyed upon his mind, and the bad times 
through which we are passiug seem to have convinced 
him that in justice to his heir he must rid himself of 
encumbrances." 

" We are talking about the sale of Chatsworth," said 
Lady ^I Uriel to her husband, who now joined the party. 

" ()h, yes," said he, " that is bad indeed. Have you heard 
who the purchaser is ? " 

"My cousin wrote and told me," said Lady Muriel, 
" that it was a Mandarin of some outlandish name — Ping 
Yang Yaloo, I think." 

" Not the great Mandarin who has broken Lancashire ? " 

" I think so," said Lady Muriel. " Yes," she abided, 
jx-oducing the letter, " Ping Yang Yaloo. But do you know 
anything about him?" she said, looking anxiously from her 
husband to Sterling. 

"Oh, yes, he is the greatest millionaire in the world. 
Neither the Rothschilds nor the Vanderbilts can comjiare 
with him. He is the moileru colossus of finance." 

" And he has bought Chatsworth ? " said Sir Artegal. 

"Such is the report in London," said Muriel; "it has 
produced quite a sensation." 

"Naturally," said Sir ArtegaL "I wonder how our 
constitution will stand the strain of such a new element ? " 

"But," persisted Madame Olga, "why should the Duke 
sell Chatsworth, of all places in the world ? It is good land 
close to great populations. If there was any land worth 
keeping, I should have thought that this was." 

"No," said Sterling, " you don't know what Chatsworth 
means. Of course Ping Yang Yaloo will make it worth 
his while, for • he will run Chatsworth on commercial 
principles, as he runs his cotton-m'dls, working his oi)era- 
tives eighteen hours a day, and feeding them ujxm a 
handful of rice. But Chatsworth has been a white elephant 
to the Duke." 

" But how ? I do not understand." 

" I will tell you a story," said Sterling. " Some years 
ago an American and a Sheffield Radical w^re discussing 
the infamies of our present social systeim^ l^ey were 
abusing the landed interest, and the American, by way of 
giving point to his arguments, said, * For instance, there is 
the Duke at Chatsworth; what an outrage ft)r one man to 
own so many acres I ' * Stop ! stop ! ' said the Radical ; 

F 



66 



The Splendid Paupers. 



*you mustn't ine«Mlc with him. 'J'liar is another matter; 
the Duke keei>s Chatswurtli up t'«»r u>. '" 

" What do vou mean bv that ? " a>ked Madame Olj'a. 

** Simply this, that the general public has much more use 
out of Chatsworth tlmn the nonnual owner. Some time 
ago I was over in Derbyshire, and made some inquiries as 
to how things actually stocnl. I found that about tiftv 
thousand j^eople were yearly admitted to the house and 
grounds at Chatsworth. The total rent of the Chatsworth 
estate was £12,000 a year, and the outlay for keeping u]> 
the house and the general mauagCHient of the estate was 
no less than £21,000. That is to say, ChatsAvorth at that 
moment represented an annual loss to the Duke of £*J,(X)0 a 
year." 

Madame Olga shrugged her pretty shoulders. " A loss of 
£9,000 a year ; that would be interest on half a million of 
roubles." 

" Does your cousin say," asked Sir Artegal, " how nmch 
1 ing Yang has paid for Chatsworth ? " 

** The actual sum is not known," said Muriel, " but it is 
supposed to be not less than a milli<»n." 

*' What madness ! — a million sterling: for property which 
yields £9,000 a year less than nothing ! " 

"Yes," said Sterling; "but you must remember that the 
new owner is not likelv to maintain Chatsworth for the 
benefit of the public. He is not likely to be better in tliis 
respect than Mr. Walledofl* showed himself to be in Berk- 
shire." 

" Oh, by-the-bye," said Wilkes, who had hitherto been 
silent, " that reminds me. Have vuu heard what Walledoft' 
pro])08e8 to do V " 

" No," said every one. 

" Ho has bought u}) all the land om the other side of the 
Thames for alx)ut five miles — in fact, all the land which 
marches with Windsor Forest, and he dei^lares that he will 
turn the whole country into a deer ]»ark. He cannot bear 
to see so much smoke from his wiuflnws, and tenant farmers, 
cottagers, and villa residents alike have received notice to 
quit." 

" Upon my word," said ^lilnian, " that Walledoff is a 
veritable William the Conquemr." 

" Yes, and we unfortunate w retches," said Sterling, " are 
very much like the Saxons after the battle of Hastings, 
without even having had a fair stand-up fight for our 
Fatherland." 

"Why are you so grave?" said Mr. Wilkes, as he 
noticed a cloud on Lady MurieVs brow. 

They turned away from the group which had gathered 
round Madame Olga," and retired to a recess. 

" I don't know," she replied ; " it seems to me very cruel, 
this incoming of the money jvDwer. I suppose it is a 
vengeance for our sins. We have allowed the i)eo])le to ))e 
divorced both from the soil and from their natural leaders, 
and now both are powerless before the money i)ower. But 
bad as things are, men of our order have no reason to make 
them worse. I cannot understand great nobles degrading 
themselves to the level of hucksters, and selling their 
heirlooms to any pigtailed barbarian or American millionaire 
who may offer them a sufficiently splendid bribe." 

" The principle of noblesse obfige will not carry too much 
strain," Wilkes said lightly, " and here is a great temptation 
to realise on part sufficient to save the rest. By-the-V\ve, 
have I ever told you what we have done on our estate at 
Six Elms ? " 

" No," said Lady Muriel, " I liave often wondered how 
you reconcile " She 8topj>ed with some embarrassment. 

" You mean," he said, " how I reconcile my SiK?ialistic 
convictions with my new jx>sition. I did not find it ditficult 
at all ; on the contrary, a landed proprietor in our day has 



better means of realising Socialistic ideas than any one I know. 
/Enid is enthusiastically at one with me in this, and we have 
every reason to be pleased with the success wiiich has si> far 
attended our efforts." 

" Do tell me what you have dcme," said Lady Muriel. 

" As vou know, mv father died verv shortlv after mv 
marriage, and I was left with a very handsome fortune m 
the funds. The Six Elms estates, although yielding a net 
loss, were nevertheless comparatively unencumbered. As soon 
as we settled down we decided to see what could be done 
towards converting our tenantry into virtual proprietors, 
while at the same time we retained the advantages of the 
old system." 

" That," said Lady Muriel, " is what we are all trying to 
do ; but to eat your cake and have it is not even vouchsafed 
to the g<Kls." 

"I think we have done it," said Wilkes. "It is very 
simple. Our land is fortunately suitable for small holdings. 
They had been there in old times, but had been consolidated 
into Uirge farms, and had mostly been thrown upon our hands, 
and were being worked by our bailiffs at an annual loss. 
We decided to cut them up into small holdings wherever 
the land was suitable for the purpose, and they were let to 
investors on the following terms : — We followed the Ame 
rican and colonial example in allowing the principle of free 
selecti<jn, subject to our veto. The land was let out in plots, 
varying from three to twenty acres. These were put up .U^ 
public tender, giving preference to reputable men who lived 
on the estate. It was a condition of every such tender 'that 
the tenant must put up farm buildings and a house of- a 
certain standard, the capital being advanced by rae.for that 
})uriH»se at five per cent, interest. If these buildings are not 
jnit up in twelve months the lot becomes vacant, and is again 
]nit up to ])ublic tender. Every tenant after having erected 
his buildings is given his lease, which practically gives him 
]»erj»etual tenure of the land, subject to certain stipulations. 
The lots have to be kept up to a certain standard of cultivA- 
tit»n. The leases run in terms of ten years, but. are to be 
renewed, as a matter of course, unless there has been 
failure to comply with the conditions. Holdings are not 
tn l>e mortgaged, nor are they to be used for 'har- 
bouring i)oav.'her8 or bad characters, or for the sale lof 
drink. Subject to these conditions, each of our tenants has 
an indefeasible title to his holding, without any feai* of being 
disturl>ed." 

" But," said Lady Muriel, scejitically, " did you find any- 
b(.Klv to take your holdings on those terms?" 

"Our only difficulty was the number of the a]>plicants; 
and manv of the tenders offered rents which we did not think 
that the land could bear, and which we refused to take." . 

" How did you provide for fluctuations?" 

" Oh, it was stipulated that at the end of every year tie 
rent should be re-arrange<i, in accordance with the average 
selling price of the articles produced on the estate. If the 
])rices went up, the rents should go up piv rata, and if they 
fell, they should also fall i^ro rata.'" 

" Sup]x)sing a peasant wished to leave, could he sell Lis 
lease ? " 

"In case of a change of tenure, the present proprietor 
could sell his interest in the land to any eHgible successor to 
whom the lease would be transferred by the landlord on 
similar teniis ; but we reserve a veto on the incoming 
tenant. I must not omit to tell you, however, the chief 
feature of the new settlement. We calculated what the 
value of the land was at the highest honest estimate that 
could be put uix)n it when we succeeded to the estate. It 
was very low, for the land was not merely unletable, but 
entailetl an annual expenditure in order to keep it from 
deteriorating into waste laud. We had it carefully valued by 



A Political Plot. 



67 



three liifferent valuers, and agreed toacceptthe mean between 
tbe three as the actiial value of the laud at the inumeDt ulieu 
it came into Dur hands. To these we added tbe tolul sum 
advanced for putting up farm buildings, lumping the two 
together. For the sum adranced fur buildiogs tbe tenants pay 
lis five per cent., of which at least one per cent, is s]ient in 
keeping the buildings in repair. That leaven us four per cent. 
If vou Uke the value uf a holding at £100, and the building'.-' 
u)>on it at £200, we receive on au average £7 lOs. rent , this 
makes the total 









leaving us £15 
calcuhited that 
£300 ai three i«r 



socialiuiu and all the adv3nta;{es <if feudalism. The si 
has only been three yearii in active o[ieralion, but so far as 
we have gone we have been perfectly satislied, and it has 
worked adiuirably. It is ceriaiidy better thau the alternative 
Hcheme in Ireland, where the land remains in the hands of 
the (ireseut |>easaut ])ro))rietor, who mortpigeij it as far as he 
can atid provides no common fuud for the developmeot and 
iiiiI>roveuient uf the estate." 
The merry laugh of Madame Olga interrupted tbe oon- 

^ettiug late, and 
they rose to join 
the group of 
which she wu 



£6 






margin to be used 
as a sinking fund 
in paying otf the 
^■apital. By this 

wider that we 1 
shall have real- / 
ised the whole I 
*jf OUT capital, 
both for rent 
and for imptove- 
(oenCs, in twenty 
years. At tlie y 
end of that time t 
it is arranged, 
instead of trans- 



I pay the 




£l" 108. 
present ; but the 

■whole of the 

money will be 

paid over to the. 

Belsover Trust, 

which will con- 

-sist of one person 

named by the 

iandlord, one by 

the tenants, and 

another chosen 

by the other two. 

This trust wiU 

■then take our place, and will be responsible for Beein^ 

chat the conditions of tbe lease are maintained, and 

that the anntial charge is readjusted every year, 

according to the rise and fall of agricultural produce, 

and that the revenue should be available for the conmion 

interests of the estate, such as the maintaining of jiedieree 

Ktock, providing caj>i:al for creameries, co-operative estatef, 

land baoks, agricultural schools, etc., etc. In short, we 

iiold that it is possible by such an arrangement to l>ind 

Cogetber the peasants on an estate iu a self- protecting 

00-operative association that would hare ati the benefits of 



world would certainty be a hell." 
bell ; purgatory," said Madame Olga. 



3 APTE 



R IV. 

PIXJT. 

'he Devil ! •* cried Dr. Glogoul, with a long whistle, 

' as he threw a letter which be bad just received 

fn'Ui Shanghai over to bis (nrtner, Hr. FaulinantL 

Faidniann seized the epistle and began to read. 

Whatever its contents were, he was evidently intensely 



68 



The Splendid Paupers. 



intereste^l, for frequent excla'.nations broke from him as he 
turned over the closely written pages. When at last he 
came to the end, he laid it down on the table, and gazed 
into space. 

"Devil it is," said he at last, "and no mistake! Who 
could have dreamed of that ? " 

" Oh, he has a level head ! " said Glogoul — " a level head. 
I back him against any dozen. It is all as plain as a 
pike-staflf. What fools we were not to see it ! " 

" Yes," said his partner enthusiastically. " He has 
got a head worth our two put together, and that is saying 
a good deal How much is it that he intends to bring 
over ? " 

" Ten million jwunda sterling," said Glogoul ; " and that 
is a n.ere fractional part of the enormouo weakh that ho can 
realise when he pleases." 

" Now," said Faulmann, " I begin to see why he bought 
Chatswjfth. I could not understand him ; neither did 
you, I think, Glogoul, exactly understand what Uiotive this 
Chinaman could h ive in buying up the Duke's i)alace in 
Derbyshire. Now I understand — at last I begin tu under- 
stand — 

For ways that arc dark and for tricks that are vain. 
The Heathen Chinee is peculiar. 

But how will this stand in with our business ? " 

" Why," said Glo^joul, " it stands in this way, that we are 
ab'i.)lved, and engulfed. Henceforth we are only a depart- 
mo.it of Ping Yang Yaloo's busmess. Instead of carrying 
on on our own account, we shall be his factotums. You will 
be his Prime Minister ; I will be his Chief-of-Staff — but wc 
must have a jx)htical adviser." 

" Is it necessary?" said Faulmann. 

"Absolutely necessary," said Glogoul. "I know all 
about ]tfithology, esj)ecially the criminal side of it. You 
know all about finance ; neither of us knows a cent's-worth 
of politics, and this scheme of Ping Yaug Yaloo*s carries us 
into politics at once." 

"\"ou are right," said Faulmann. "And I know the 
man." 

" l''ou do ? " said Glogoul. " I hope you are right, because 
it may spoil everything if we choose the wrong man. 
Kemember, first and foremost, can we trust him V " 
Yes — if you pay him high enough." 
Ah, if money will do it. Money is not everything." 

" Money is not everything. You sometimes have to i)ay 
in money ; sometimes in jwwer." 

" Well, money and power ; that is only two ways of 
spelling the same thing." 

" What kind of power does he want ? " asked Glogoul. 

" He wants to be Prime ^linister," said Faulmann. 

Glogoul whistled. " It is rather a tall order." 

" No doubt," said Faulmann cynically. " I do not think 
we need make him Prime Minister. We have only to 
talk to him and foul him to the top of his bent. We 
promise nothing. That is always safe." 

" I agree," said GlogMul. " There is no duj^e like 
the man who dupes himself. But who is this paragon of 
yours ? " 

" He is Su- Peter Patterson." 

"Of course," said Gl ►goul. "How dull I am to-day, 
not to have thought of him at once! He is the very 
man." 

" Yes," said Faulmann. " He is ambitious, but he is 
declasse — ^a disaj)} ointed, disgraced politician. But he is 
smart ; he used to know everybody. He has no character 
and an immense memory, and is the greatest cuwar«.l that 
walks in shoe-ieathcA'"." 



(i 



4i 



" Humph ! " said Glogoul. " That is true ; but do you 
think that such an abject coward would be a desirable 

member » >f our team V " 

" Why," said Fauhnann, with a sneer, " that is hiiy 
most valuable quality. You can intimidate a coward, espe- 
cially when you have incriminated him. What we want is. 
not a man, but a tool, and a better tool I defy you tu find m 
all England." 

" I daresay you are right," said Glogoul ; " but the work 
in hand will require nerve." 

" Of which we have plenty," said Faulmann. " We do 
not need to tell him more than what we choose." 

" And that at present is very little," said Glogoul. 

" Quite so. All that we need is to flatter his vanity ani3 
engage his sympathetic interest; the rest will follow ii> 
due course." 

Whereupon each went his way to carry out the orders 
received from Ping Yang Yaloo. The letter which had un- 
folded such vistas of fortune before the eyes of the partners was 
written by Glogoul's friend, the great Mandarin's secretary. 
Its substance, in brief, wi\s this. That Ping Yang Yaloo 
had already made a fortune uf about £100,000,000 sterling, 
but it dei»ended cliiefly, if not entirely, upon two things. 
One was that silver should continue at its present depreciated 
value, and the second that he should be able tu hold his- 
own in the victory which he had gained over the looms of 
Lancashire. These were his two vulnerable points. In 
order to cover them, it was necessary fi»r him to operate 
in England ; and, as usual with Ping Y'ang Yaloo when 
any operation of great difficulty and delicacy had ti> 
be perfurmed, he insisted upon being on the 8i)ot, and 
seeing after everything with his own eyes, for a long 
exixjrience had taught him that no eye sees so clearly a* 
your own eye. 

He had therefore decided to take up his abode in 
England, in order that he might be in a position to use 
some jxjrtion of his enormous wealth in keeping up the 
price of gold, and in hai.dicapping his Lancashire comp^atriots. 
Fur some time he had shrunk from the ordeal of taking up 
his abode in England, a country which he regarded as a 
barbarous land in the midst of turbulent seas, cursed with 
an atmosphere of fog and a temperature that was almost 
intolerable. Ping Yang Y'aloo came from a semi-tropical 
climate in Southern China, and never wintered so far North 
as Shanghai. He had too much at stake, however, to be 
able to stand upon such trivialities as personal incon- 
venience, and when it was represented to him that money 
could create a little China in the heart of the British 
Islands, he made up his mind. 

A telegram to Glogoul secured the purchase of Chats- 
wurth. Formal instructions w^ere at once drawn up to 
Glogoul and Faulmann to create around the palace a region 
in which the Mandarin could find nothing to remind him 
that he was living outside the Yellow kingdom. 

To carry out his schemes it was obviously necessary, as 
Glogoul said, to enter into jwlitics. It was necessary for 
them to master all the intricacies of local administration in 
order to take the utmost advantage of every privilege wLi b 
the law gives to proi^erty owners. The first indispens- 
able desideratum was the conversion of the Chatsworth 
]>ro|)erty into a miniature Cliina ; but when Ping Yang 
Yaloo was domicile<i in Chinafied Chatsworth he \ioAd 
but have secureil his 7>tW-a-/«Ttf. He would only be in 
a ix)sition to begin his great campaign, and at every step 
it would be necessary to exercise political influence, and to 
bring pressure to bear upon Governments and upi>n Parlia- 
ments. In order to do this, Glogoul and Faulmann felt 



A Political Plot. 



69 



instinctively that they were useless without an ally, and 
Chat ally, both agreed, must be none other than Sir Peter 
Patterson. 

That night the two partners discussed at length how much 
it was necessary to teu Sir Peter of the scheme which had 
been unfolded to them. As yet they themselves had but an 
inkling of the great Mandarin's scheme. They could not 
approach Sir Peter without telling him something ; but how 
much or how little to tell him, that was the question. 
Fortunately for them, Sir Peter Patterson was an enthusiastic 
monometallist, and it could not be difficult for them to 
approach him on that side. It was agreed that Faulmann, 
being the fioancier, should seek an interview with Sir Peter 
s.t his house in Kensington early the following morning, and 
sound him as to how far they could rely upon his 
co-operation. 

Next morning, Mr. Faulmann was ushered into the study 
of Sir Peter. Tlie latter received him with that half-brusque, 
half-hesitating manne^ which always gave those who saw 
him the first time an impression that he was receiving a 
possible blackmailer, and was never at his ease until he had 
divined the stranger's business. 

Mr. Faulmann went straight to the point. 

" Sir Peter," he said, ** I have been reading with great 
admiration your last article in the Nineteenth Century upon 
* The Idiocy of Bimetallism.* I am with you there, but I 
would not have come to tell you so if it had not been that a 
friend of mine, very extensively engaged in business, is 
anxious to co-operate with the English monometallists, in 
order to beat the attack which is being made u|X)n their 
position by the United States of America. When I laid 
down your article, I said to myself, * Sir Peter is the very 
man for my friend.' ** 

Sir Peter fidgeted rather uneasily in hia chair, and said, 
** You are very flattering, but I do not exactly understand in 
what way I can co-operate with the friend of whom you 
speak." 

•*But you are already co-operating with him," said Mr. 
Faulmann, with a bland smile. '* Your article indeed is one 
of the best methods of co-operation, however unintentional 
it may have been on your part. But I have nothing to 
conceal, and no object in making a mystery. I represent 
one whose name ^is familiar to you, but of the full scope of 
whose enterprise and ambition you are perhaps but dimly 
conscious. I refer to Ping Yang Yaioo, the Chinese 
millionaire." 

" Oh I " sadd Sir Peter. " Of course, I have heard of Ping 
Yang Yaloo, the great Mandarin, whose cottons are at the 
present moment underselling those of Lancashire in the 
markets of London." 

" Tliat is my friend," said Faulmann. " Now, as you are 
well aware, the present ratio between silver and gold is one 
of the factors — only one, of course, but an important factor 
— ^in the problem which has enabled my Chinese friend to 
be a Napoleon of Asiatic finance. He may be wrong, or he 
may be right, but he has come to the conclusion that cheap 
silver is important to him, and any approach to remonetisation 
of the white metal in this countiy he regards as being 
detrimental to his interest, as you demonstrate in that 
article it would be to the best intereste of Great Britain." 

•* Certainly," said Sir Peter. " I do not know how it 
affects Ping Yang Yaloo— that U his business; but as a 
compatriot, and as a British statesman" ^Mr. Faulmann 
noticed the emphasis which Sir Peter placed on that word, 
and inwardly smiled), *' I am certain that bimetallism is one 
of the most fatal crazes that ever gained possessionof the 
X^ubUc mind." 

« Precisely," said Mr. Faulmann; '*but although Mr. 



Balfour has, in his academic fashion, coquetted with this 
question, where is the statesman who will come forward 
boldly as an advocate of universal monometallism ? If such 
a statesman there were, what an opening would lie before 
himl" 

" Yes," said Sir Peter, ** no doubt there would ; but as for 
me, I have long since forsworn ambition. My only dream 
is to leave an unsullied name to my heirs, and those who 
will come after me." 

"Ah," said Mr. Faulmann, "that is Tenr noble, but it is 
not business, and you will excuse me. Sir Peter, for my time 
is precious, as I have no doubt yours is also. I came here 
to see a statesman, whom all we Radicals at one time hoped 
to see Prime Minister to the Queen, if, indeed, you had not 
converted this monarchy into a more rational Republic.*' 

Sir Peter winced a little. 

"But," added Mr. Faulmann, "if you have forsworn 
yourself, and have no longer a political ambition, I must go 
elsewhere for my man." 

" Stay I " said Sir Peter. ** It is true I have no longer any 
personal ambition — ^mark you, I said personal — ^but a mission 
to serve my country, even it may be in the arduous foretop 
of the Vessel of State ; to that last infirmity of noble minds 
I am afraid I must still plead guilty. But what you say of 
your Chinese friend interests me hugely, and I am not sure 
but that you are right. It would be a great combination 
— a great combination. I suppose money would be no 
object ? " 

" Not the least in the world," said Mr. Faulmann ; 
" and with money you can do anything in politics." 

" Pray sit down, Mr. Faulmann. Sit down for a moment, 
and we will just consider what can be done." 

** No," said Mr. Faulmann. " It must be enough for me 
to put the idea before you. I have implicit confidence in 
your honour. Your word is as good as your bond. I 
have only to ask you to treat this conversation as con- 
fidential." 

" Certainly," said Sir Peter. ** Not a word shall pass my 
lips ; but if you will come again to-morrow I will think it 
over carefully and let you know in what way, in my judg- 
ment, your friend's object can best be obtained." 

No sooner had Mr. Faulmann gone than Sir Peter summoned 
his wife. "^My dear, sit down. You have so much clearer 
a head than I, and, besides, you really take an interest in 
this political game, which, I confess, rather bores me. I 
want your advice." 

"Oh, Peter, Peter," said she playfully, "why do you 
endeavour to deceive even me ? You can keep your hand 
in without practising on your wife 1 " 

" Well, well," said he, "never mind that; let me explain 
what has happened. That fellow who has just gone out — a 
stranger to me— he came with a proposal which, if it be 
genuine, and he can produce credentials in support of it, 
will practically place the ball at our feet." 

Lady Dorothy sighed. " I am afraid you are always too 
sanguine, Peter." 

" Well, never mind," said he ; "listen to what I have to 
tell you. Ping Yang Yaloo, the greatest millionaire in the 
world, is anxious to prevent any actioi in this country that 
may tend to raise the value of silver. As you know, I 
regard any interference on the part of Governments in the 
course of exchange as a pestilential heresy. This man 
Faulmann had seen my article in the Nineteenth Century^ 
which he says agrees on all fours with his Chinese friemrs 
position. He wants some one in this oonntry who will 
work the oracle, not for him, but against the bimetallists, 
and the position is mine to take or to refuse. What do 
you say ? " 



70 



The Splendid Paupers. 



" Bimetallis^m Vwires mc," sa'.il her lailv^liip, with a yawn. 
"I could never understand currency tiucJtions." 

" But you have a ])recious keen scent tor currency,'* he said, 
with a smile, " and I tell vou, dear, there are millionB in it." 

" What : " she said, " niUlion^ ? ^' 

" Million**,*' he repeateil slowly. 

There was no longer any indifference on Lady Dorothy's 
part. "You mean to say, Peter, that you an<l I will hav3 
millions to dispose of, Urerdlv millions, as if thev were our 
own?" 

** Well," said he, " I will not say that ; hut so Ions: as we 
could make our own policy coincide with the Mandarin's 
monometallism " 

Lady Dorothy sprang to her feet and took two or three 
quick turns about the room, the fingers of her clenched 
hand working convulsively. 

" At last ! " she said. " Pet^r, I shall see vou Prime 
Minister some day." And crossing the room, she flimg her 
arms round his neck and kissed him ardently upon the lips. 

Sir Peter bore it as one who was used to it, and then said, 
" But how ? — that is the question." 

" Surely it does not need much discussion ? We have 
many a time talked it over, and we have always had t(^) 
abandon our scheme, because we did not see our wav to the 
necessary cash." 

" Well," said he ; " go on." 

"You know abiiut four year^ ago we had it all out, and if 
we had had £10D,00J to si»are in ready money, we could 
have upset the Cfovemment easily. 1 fancy that to-day, if 
we had £50,000, we could turn the Government out." 

"Yes," said he, imj^atiently. "But. what good would 
that do? To put out the (rovemment whom you can 
bully, because it rests uixm the sui)i)ort of a congeries of 
mutually warring factions, is in^ssible ; but if the only 
result of that is to put in a Government which you cannot 
influence, it seems to me very much like jumping from the 
frying-|)an into the fire." 

She lo<.»ked grave for a moment, and then sal<l, " Yes, it 
requires only a little money to upset a Lihyral (T<)vernnienr, 
but it would require a deal t.»f money to break up the 
Conservative i>arty." 

" Therein," said Sir Peter, " has been our difliculty, and 1 
am not sure whether this Uiillionaire will be willini: tn incur 
the necessary ex|»enditure." 

"But even with half a million we could hold the life nf 
the present Ministry in the hollow of our hands," added 
Lady Dorothy. 

Sir Peter tossed his head impatiently. " Half a million ! *' 
he said. "I would ensure a dissolution in a fortnight 
if I had the free use of tifty thousand jwunds ! " 



CHAPTER V. 

BIMETALLISM IN EXCELSIS. 

-JJ^AWTON SILVERTOXGUE had spoken little in the 

Kp drawing-room at Westlands on the previous evening, 

\« ^^^^^ ^^^ ^*^ thougkt the more. He was a man who 

di»l not care much for shooting; he had seen too 

much of it. When a man has shot tigers in the jungles of 

India, and stalked the great elk in the Rocky Mountains, 

he is aj>t to hjok with indifference upon the exploits 

of NimnKis who have never brought di>wn anything more 

dangerous than a red deer. At dinner-time he had l>een 

seated in the midst of a group of yo\mg sportsmen, and his 

attention had been attracted by Madame Olga at the other 

end of the table, as a light in a cottage window attracts the 

belated traveller. 

His attention was first excited by her star sapphire ear- 
rings, which shone like veritable stars in the electric light. 



When he learned who it was, he was naturally anxious 
to make her acquaintance. For the last twenty years she 
had been one of the best known and most likeii of the inter- 
national women of the Continent. Her mother bad been one 
of the beauties of the Russian Court, and her father a patriot^ 
whose lofty idealism puts that of Western Europe into the 
shade. Her brother's heroic and almost martyr death 
on an Eastern battletield, when the issues of peace 
an<l war were trembling in the balance, decided the case 
in favour of the emancipation of the East. She herself was 
not unworthy such parentage and kinship, and during the 
Russo-Turkish War, when the London mob, possessed by 
the passions of all the nether fiends, smashed Mr. Gla«l- 
stone's windows, and proclaimed with volleys of rotten eggs 
and dead cats their devotion to the Turkish alliance, Madame 
Glga held the fort on behalf of the liberties of the East and 
a g<M)d understanding between England and Russia. She 
was the only human being who had an audience in both 
countries, writing in two languages but speaking only one, 
and that was peace. More influential than many aa 
ambassador, she was one of the few human links which 
united the great inarticulate mass of Slavdom with the 
more feverish and material civilisation of the Western 
W«»rld. Whether she was discussing theology with 'Dr. 
Ddllinger, or politics with Mr. Gladstone, or history with 
Mr. (.'arlyle and Mr. Froude, she was equally vivacious and 
equally at home, and always intensely human. No one 
was less of a l)lue stocking, although she wrote in thr«e 
languages and talked in four. 

It was therefore not surprising that Silvertongue should 
have taken an early op]xirtunity of sounding her upon the all- 
important subject of bimetallism. The Fates were propitious* 
and early next morning, when the sjwrtsmen were oft' to the 
hills, Silvertongue found Madame sitting on a garden chair 
reading the Wtsf minster Gazette. 

"Oh, it is you, Mr. Silvertongue!" she exclain^etl: 
"pray sit down and tell me more about what we were 
talking <tf last night." 

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure," said lie, 
truthfully enough, for when once Silvertongue got loot»e 
on the currency question he would go on to the day of 
judgment. He plunged at once in rtxedias rett, 

" The relation l>etween the two precious metals " 

^Ia«lame Olga gave a little gesture of despair. "Ah, Mr. 
Silvert4>ngue, it was not about that which I wished you to talk, 
Init alM»ut the way the Jews and Chinese are eating up your 
count rv." 

Silvertongue was for an instant disconcerted, but in 
a moment he saw his advantage and said, "But that is 
entirelv a question of the currencv. The ascendencv of the 
jilutocracy at the present moment is entirely due to the 
vital mistake by which silver was demonetised and gold made 
the single standard of value. Restore silver to its pro]ier 
]»o^ition of a circulating medium and gold will drop, and the 
usurers of the world who have the unfortunate people by 
the throat, will find their true level. 

" For instance," continued he eagerly, "there are the 
national debt^s of the world. The interest upon these debts 
t«>-day, owing to the appreciation of gold, or, what is the 
same thing, the fall in prices, requires just twice as much 
human lalx)ur to pay them as used to suffice for that 
purpose. For example, you hold £1,000 in Consols." 

** Alas ! " said Madame Olga deprecatingly, " I onlv wish 
I did." 

" But we will suppose you do," said he, waiving aside the 
objection. " For the taxpayer to pay you £30 interest on 
your £1,000 it is necessary for him to produce just twice 
as much wheat as would have sufiiced for him to discharge 
his «.)bligations a quarter of a century ago. That is to say,. 



Bimetallism in Excelsis. 



71 



ihe burden upon the Individual has just doubled, and the 
plutocrat, the creditor-class, profits, while the debtor suH'ers. 
That is the secret of the adversities which are coming ui)on 
this and other countries.** 

'*But is it not a good thing for the people that food 
should be cheap ? ** asked Madame Olga. 

** What is the good of having things cheap if you have no 
money to pay for them ? And it is not worth while producing 
things if you get no money for them in the market. Take, 
for instance, wheat at 18s. a quarter ; why, it costs nearly 
twice as much to produce it in the American farm. This 
kind of thing cannot last. The effect of it is simply this — 
to throw the monetary ascendency of the world into the 
hands of Asiatics. The question of the white money against 
the yellow money is really a question of the white man 
against the yellow man. Owing to the absurd devotion of 
the White man to the yellow money, the Yellow man with 
his white money is carrying all before him. That is the 
secret of Ping Yang Yaloo's immense fortune. Anything 
that brought silver back to its right relation to gold would 
send Ping Yang Yaloo higher than a kite. They are 
beginning to see this in America; but here every (»ne 
is blind — excepting a very few independent states- 
men. They are all bound hand and foot by old traditions 
and the authority of half a dozen men in the City who 
were reared upon text-books which were beginning to be 
antiquated when you and I were bom.*' 

**Then you hate gold?** said the Russian. "Now, my 
only complaint with it is that I have never been able t<:> get 
enough of it. That is my currency grievance. It circulates 
too quickly — it always circulates away from me. At every 
turn you see people who need it more than you, and you 
give it away or lend it, which is really the same thing. 
If you could get a circulating medium \vhich would 
s^ck to one*s fingers and stay in one's purse, instead (»f 
gliding away imperceptibly, there would be something 
in it. But your currency question, I doa't understand 
that.** 

** Ah," said Silvertongue, with a sigh, " it is as i)lain as 
ABC. I cannot imderstand how any one can fail tu see it. , 
But the difficulty is being solved, believe me, and that nnt 
bv Grovemments, but bv Nature. Prices have fallen l>ecause 
there is too little gold ; prices will go up when there is inMre 
gold brought to the Mint. Gold mines richer than the 
fabled mines of Potosi are being opened out every ihiy. 
Look at Coolgardie 1 ** 

" Where is Coolgardie ? " 

" Coolgardie is the gold-field which was opened up some 
few years ago in Western AustraUa, where there is more 
gold than water, and where out of a single shaft they have 
taken four hundred tons of quarte that has yielded an average 
of £300 sterhng for every ton. Look at the Transvaal. Twelve 
years ago it yielded next to nothing ; to-day it is yielding 
more gold than either the United States or Australia. 
Madagascar is coming ** 

"Yes,** interrupted Madame Olga, "and Siberia. Since 
Captain Wiggins opened up the passage to the Yenesei and 
enabled us to take crushing machinery, you will find that 
Siberia will be one of the greatest gold-producing countries 
in the world.** 

" No doubt," said Silvertongue. " From north and south 
and east and west, gold comes pouring in ; but all these will 
do less than a little machine which I shall be delighted to 
show you at work on Lady MurieFs grounds.** 

" Really I ** said Madame Olga ; " what is this wonderful 
machine ? ** 

" Ah ! you laugh," said Silvertongue ; " but it is the latest 
and most perfect method of extracting gold from the hardest 
ore that the world has ever seen." 



She slio«»k her head. "I hear that of some new machine 
every six mouths."* 

" No doubt,'* said Silvertongue. " But this is the 
machine.** 

" Thev all sav that.** 

" Yes, but come and see it f»)r yourself. The difficulty 
which has prevented the world from having as much gold 
as it needed was the imix)ssibility of profitably extracting 
gold from refractory ores. It has been impossible to get 
anything like all the guld from the ore. All our stamping 
and crushing machinery has hitherto failed to extract more 
than a mere fraction of the gold which has been brought to 
bank. Now we shall be able to get 90 \^t cent, of the gold 
from the quartz which is brought up from the mine." 

** No,'* said Malame. " I have heard this thing too often. 
I do not believe in your machine.** 

" Well,'* said Silvertongue desi>airingly, " if I make up a 
partv to the gold mines in the Gorm Glen, will you 
join^tV** 

" With pleasure," said Madame Olga, "and all the more 
readily for I am sure of receiving the- blessing promised in 
the beatitudes — * Blesse<l are they who expect nothing, for 
they will not be disap}x»inte<l.' " 

After dinner Mr. Silvertongue escorted a small party down 
a long and romantic ravine to the place where the much- 
talked-of gold mines of Lady Muriel were situated. The 
machine was at work. It was not very important looking, 
but as Silvertongue sai<l, we must not forget that the inven- 
tion «)f a i>air of parallel l)ars revolutionised the transport of 
the world, and therefore his machiiie was not to be despised 
l>ecause it seemed insignificant. 

*' Ah," said Wilkes, who was one of the party, " this is the 
Coiut'onl Mill, is it not ? *' 

" Yes," said Silvertougne, " you have seen it, then ? " 

" Yes, I have seen it at wurk. It is a wonderful mill. 
But it was very imj^erfect when I saw it last.** 

** It has been rem<Hielled, and is now almost perfection," 
said Silvertongue enthusiastiailly. " This mill weigh/* little 
more than four tons, an»i crushes over ten tons of quartz in 
twenty-four hours. It reduces the quartz to so fine a dust 
that you wniild be able to ]>ass it through a cambric hand- 
kerchief. It is an arrangement <if steel balls which grind the 
quartz into a ]K)wder as fine as flour. There is the njachine 
fi>r ojiening up Siberia," sai«l he, turning to Madame Olga. 
** You send that machine up the Yenesei by Captain Wiggins. 
It can be taken to any part of the country, and w^ill turn 
uut gold with the regularity of a clock." 

** 1 supiH:)se," said Wilkes, " the real advantage of this 
machine is that it pays to extract gold from ore which all 
other existing machinery would not do?" 

" That is it exactly," aid Silvertongue. " The Com ford 
Mill is destined to put millions of money into the pockets of 
investors, who at the present moment are clinging to shares 
in g(»ld-mines which have been abandoned because they 
would not pay for working. In another five years gold will 
be as much a glut in the market as silver. All prices will 
be turned topsy-turvy, and the ascendency of the Yellow 
man with the white money will be at an end. I am a white 
man," said Silvertongue pleasantly, " and I have a preference 
for men of my own colour." 

While the others were gossiping round the mill, a 
messenger came up with a telegram for -Mr. Wilkes. It 
was from his agent, informing him that Belsover Castle, jn 
Derbyshire, the ancient seat of his wife's family, was for 
sale, that Glogoul and Faulmann were in negotiation, and 
that it was necessary for him to return at once. Ue sighed, 
and handed the telegram to Silvertongue. 

" Another turn of the screw ! ** remarked Silvertongue, 
after reading it. " What are ytiU going to do ? " 



72 



The Splendid Paupers. 



" Buy it," said Wilkes laconically, " and keep these 
scoundrels out, even if I have to sell the Hall." 

"Lady iEnid?" queried Silvertongue. 

"Is absolutely at one with me in this. The time is 
coming when all the solvent members of our noble families 
will have to make common cause against the plutocrat. 
They have got Chatsworth and Hardwicke, but they shall 
never have Belsover if I can help it." 

When they returned to Westlands they found Lady 
Muriel in deep conversation with Sir Artegal. They also 
had had a telegram. Haddon Hall was in the market. 
Glogoul and Faulmann had made a bid which was so high 
that Sir Artegal feared it would be impossible for any one to 
outbid them. 

Silvertongue drew Lady Muriel aside. 

" Have you seen what the mill has been doing lately ? " 
he asked. 

" No," she replied. 

"Believe me you have got a fortune in that gold-mine. 
If it keeps up at the present rate it will produce you gold at 
the rate of £100 a day. The profit on that gold-mine will 
help you to bear the cost of saving Haddon Hall. What 
do you think ? " 

" I think it is worth risking," she said. " I cannot bear 
to think of Haddon Hall, that flower of English history and 
romance, falling into the hands of a Mongolian. You had 
batter tell Sir Artegal what yoti have told me. He knows 
more about the mine than I do." 

The result of that conversation was that in five minutes 
telegrams were despatched from Westlands, the effect of 
which was that almost for the first titne since they had com- 
msnced operations Messrs. Glogoul and Faulmann failed to 
secure the bargain on which they had set their minds. 

And thus it came to pass that the ancient keep of Belsover 
passed once more into the hands of the descendants of its 
original jK^sessors, while Haddon Hall became the property 
of Sir Artegal and Lady Muriel. 




CHAPTER VI. 

THE WILES OF LADY DOROTHY. 

IIAT night Glogoul and Faulmann were again in deep 
consultation. They had in the meantime received a 
cipher dispatch from Shanghai, wnich had caused 
them to o[)en their eyes wider than ever. This 
dispatch, giving the latest order from Ping Yang Yaloo, inti- 
mated that it was necessary to control both Houses of Parlia- 
ment, and to dictate the course of the Government \i\Mm the 
currency quGstioQ ; that, to do ti.'s, they were to spare no 
expense — even £10,000,000, as lit stood to lose twi^^e that 
amount if silver rose in value, or if the Lancashire competi- 
tion could not be kept within bounds. 

Faulmann rehearsed his conversation with Sir Peter 
Patterson, and asked Glogoul to accompany him thj next 
day. 

" No," said Glogoul ; " like all guilty men, he is shy of every 
fresh face. It is only your honest men who are really 
trustful. Suspicion is the most obvious of all the signs of 
guilt." 

" Well," said Faulmann, " but how much could we tell 
him ? " 

"Oh," said he, "we had better tell him the least that 
we could possibly get him for, as we shall have to spend 
a great deal of money ourselves." 

" Quite so," said Glogoul. 

" But have you thought out any plan of campaign ? " 

" Yes," said Glogoul. " I see my way pretty clearly just 



now. Yuu say Ping Yang Yaloo must control both Houses 
of Parliament. Now the House of (Commons is comparatively 
easy. Parties are pretty evenly balanced, and the number 
of venal members will increase with every election. With 
much less than a million we could buy up sufficient 
jiatriots, both Irish and English, not exchuiing Scotch and 
Welsh, who would vote to order ; i.e., we could cut the throat 
of the Ministry when we pleased. But that is not enough. 
Our Mandarin is after some other game — wants to control, 
not merely the House of Commons and the Government, 
but the House of Lords. How can that be done? " 

" Blessed if I know," said Faulmann ; " these fellows have 
no constituencies." 

Glogoul contemplated him for a moment with a look of 
compassionate contempt. " No, they have no constituencies ; 
but, what is much more serious for them, they have not got 
any cash, and as you said at the time when you and I first 
met, * They are a race of Splendid Pau^iers,' living outside 
of their means with very few exceptions, and if a mil- 
lionaire cannot keep up his own pack of i>auper8, use them 
as he pleases, and take them to market when necessary, 
tlien Fm a Dutchman, that's all." 

" You are not a Dutchman," said Faulmann. " I wish 
you were, for then you would come to the point more 
directlv. How in the name of f<^rtune are we to control 
the peers?" 

"Why, Faulmann,** said Glogoul, "what have we been 
doing these last two years? Are we not engaged in the 
wrecking, or rather, in the salvage of the estates of the 
British aristocracy ? Do you know we have had wonderful 
luck, although wo started with quite a small capital? But 
just imagine what we could do if we had £10,000,000 at 
our back." 

Fauhnann's eyes sparkled. 

" Glogoul, how was it you were not bom a son of Israel? 
I see it aU now." 

Without another word they separated and went to bed. 
The next morning Faulmann presented himself before Sir 
Peter. 

They were apparently alone, but Lady Dorothy was 
snugly ensconced in the interior of an old clock-case, from 
which she could see the visitor, and hear everything that 
was said. 

" Now," said Faulmann, " I need not say that I hope you 
have not breathed a word of the conversation that passed 
between us yesterday to any living soul." 

" Not a word has passed my Iii)s," said Sir Peter, with 
emphasis. " On my honour, I have never breathed it to a 
hutnan being." 

*' How well he does lie ! " thought Lady Dorothy, in the 
clock-case. "But long practice, I suppose, has made him 
perfect." 

" Have you any fresh news ? " said Sir Peter. 

" Yes," said Mr. Faulmann ; " very serious cablegram 
arrived yesterday, after I left you." 

Sir Peter's countenance fell. 

Faulmann noticed this with a surprised chuckle, but 
went on — "The enterprise upon which my friend the 
Mandarin was engaged is even more arduous than I antici- 
pated yesterday. He wants not only to control the House 
of Commons and the Government, but also the House of 
Lords." 

" Pshaw I " gaid Sir Peter ; " that is only his ignorance. 
You cannot expect a Chinaman to know that the House of 
Lords counts for nothing nowadays." 

Faulmann smiled a little, and said, "The man who 
thinks that Ping Yang Yaloo does not know anything, 
usually wakes up some fine day to find himself mistaken. 



The Wiles of Lady Dorothy. 



73 



If he wants to control the House of Lonls, he lifis a reason 
for it ; but that is not the matter uiK)n which we wish to 
consult you. We have other plans in that direction for 
which co-operation is not necessary. What we look to you 
for is the control of the House of Commons.'* 

"Well," said Sir Peter, "I have thought it over very 
carefully, but everything will dei>end u|X)n the amount of 
money that can be placed at my disposal. For instance, I 
could purchase suflficient to place the Government in a 
minority upon any division that was not absolutely vital for 
— oh, quite a trifle — ^say, £25,000, but that is not what he 
wishes." 

" By no means ; that is no use at all, and £25,000 is a 
mere bagatelle — is not worth while talking about. What 
we wish to do is to have a permanent silver brigade in the 
House of Commons, which will defeat any Government 
that yields even a hair-breadth to the demand, no matter 
by whom it is backed, for a move in the direction of 
remonetising silver." 

"Humph!" said Sir Peter. "I am afraid that will be 
difficult. You cannot buv the Irish in that fashion. You 
can buy a few by retail, but wholesale — no ! " 

"Besides," said Faulmann, "it will not be wise to rely 
upon the Irish alone. The Irish could be turned out of the 
House, and then where should we be ? " 

"You are quite right," said Sir Peter. "But how much 
do you think your Mandarin would be disposed to spend on 
the next general election, which we expect to take place 
next year ? " 

** It depends," said Faulmann cautiously. " If he could 
buy a working majority of the whole House, he would not 
shrink from half a million, or even more ; but that is out of 
the question." 

" Quite," said Sir Peter. " It is no use to discuss 
absurdities. What is necessary to be done is to keep the 
Liberals in office, but to keep the factions in power." 

" Precisely," said Mr. Faulmann. " For instance, Mr. 
Balfour is coquetting dangerously with bimetallism, whereas 
the Liberals, so far as we can see, have no ideas at all on that 
question." 

" But, at the same time, they must not be defeated," said Sir 
Peter; "and that means that, if jwssible, we should supjwrt 
a new group that would draw some supp^^rt from the Con- 
servatives, but above all injure and weaken the Liberals." 

" Yes," said Mr. Faulmann. " But how can that be 
done ? " 

"Nothing can be done without money," said Sir Peter 
eagerly. " Have you ever heard of the Toilers* Industrial 
League?" 

" Well," said Mr. Faulmann, " I know the Independent 
Labour Party." 

"Yes, but that went up the spout long ago," said Sir 
Peter. " The Toilers* Industrial League, however, is the 
result of the seed which was sown by Keir Hardie and his 
colleagues." 

"It has fallen into the hands of rogues," said Mr. Faulmann. 

" Well," said Sir Peter, " we wiU put it mildly. Their 
personal ambitions seem predominant over other considera- 
tions, inducing them to forget the laws of arithmetic, to say 
nothing of the principle of the Ten Commandments." 

" Well," said Mr. Faulmann, " we do not need to be too 
squeamish, you know, about instruments. They will do as 
well as any others." 

" I think they will do better than others," said Sir Peter. 
** And I think if they were judiciously worked we could start 
candidates in some fifty or sixty constituencies, which would 
efficiently spoil all hope of a strong Liberal majority. 
Perhaps a dozen might get elected. We would pay their 
election expenses, and give those who are elected an allow- 



ance, which would, of course, be stopped the moment they 
voted on the wrong side.'* 

" Well,** said he, " that would be very well to begin with, 
but we ought to have a group of at least twenty-five, and 
that is a very small contribution to the necessary number." 

" Oh, as for the others," said Sir Peter, " you can always 
find a dozen men out of seven hundred who can be got at. 
There are the guinea-pigs to begin with. They would much 
rather earn their £500 in a gentlemanly way by supporting 
a good Monometallist policy bound up in England's greatness 
than by giving their names to every swindle on the Stock 
Exchange. Then there are the Labour members. They are 
not more dishonest than any other members, but they are 
poorer, and where poverty is, there money has its power. 
Then you have the crofters, the Welsh members, and a con- 
tingency of the Irish. Ah, you need not be afraid ! Give 
me money enough, and I will secure your group of twenty- 
five, who will hold the balance of power in their hands. But 
you have not yet told me how much you will be disposed to 
allow me ? " 

" Would a quarter of a million do ? ** said Faulmann ten- 
tatively. 

Sir Peter's eyes glistened. " I think it mi^ht ." 

Inside the clock-case there was a perceptible movement. 

Faulmann startetl. " We are alone?" said he. 

" Certainly," said Sir Peter. 

" I heanl a noise in that direction," pointing to the comer 
where the clock-case was. 

" I suppose it was a mouse." 

But Sir Peter took care to stand between the clock-case 
and his visitor. 

" I think we understand each other,*' said Faulmann. 

"Perfectly," said Sir Peter. "But you have not yet 
shown me your credentials." 

"Ah, yes I " said Faulmann. " Here is a cablegram 
franked for Shanghai. Here is the message written out in 
accord with the cipher code. * Can I trust Faulmann on 
your accoimt for quarter of million ? * Now, you send that 
cablegram, and before night you will have an affirmative 
reply. Will that satisfy you ? ** 

" Certainly," said Sir Peter, as he accompanied Mr. Faul- 
mann to the door. 

When he returned to his room, he found his wife sitting 
at his desk. " Oh, you fool ; you fool I " she cried. 

" Well," said he, in an aggrieved tone, " what is the 
matter ? " 

" Why," said she, " I was so indignant that I very nearly 
forgot myself, and betrayed everything. Why did you not 
ask for half a million, when you were at it ? You could have 
got it quite as easily as a quarter of a miUion. But it is 
just the way with you. You have no enterprise, no courage. 
I do not know what would become of you if it were not 
for me." 

" Well, you would have made a pretty mess of it had you 
come out of the clock-case. As it was, you nearly spoiled 
everything." 

" Fiddlesticks I I only made the faintest little soimd in 
order to tell you to ask for more money. You are so dull, 
you cannot take a hint." 

After which ebullition of natural indignation the worthy 
pair settled down to discuss their further plans. As the 
result, Lady Dorothy despatched a telegram to " Algernon 
Bradford, Toilers' Industnal League, Whitechapel. Lunch 

at 2. — ^DOBOTHY." 

Algernon Bradford was the honorary secretary of the 
Toilers* Industrial League, and the chief pet of Lady 
Dorothy. He was not much of a toiler, having been ori- 
ginally a member of the classes rather than of the masses. 



The Splundid Paupers. 



Hjfl fulber had ^een n ptkyma^Wr in tlie-Bi>yiil Nivr.auil ha 
hftd hoped TohaTe^eeti hilt hoy wiirk liiiiwaym ihalprnfoiikiiiii; 
hut.tncmcyrutinitig short aflar he hnd beguu his ediirtttion, 
the buy tiad to he nithdravru frum scliciol, And npiireDlicod 
a»'a shop-lad in it drajiery store. Wheu eisht«en or iiinetwin 
h«, hail made the act|uaiutance of an ai/tur ; liaii falleu orar 
hend »nd heels iii lore with a ballet girl, and \ra» oonviuoed '- 
that hie ilestinjr in life vtm the stage. He had a somewhot 
pleuMiit ap]ienmnce, n ^ikhI hear! of hair, but there wm a csr- 
Uinairorirrenoliitinn nbuat hiiu w)uchratliordetrac(«d frviiu 
lus genersd sppear- 
uice. He left hin 
jibop BDil joined a 
^veiling compntiy, 
'^rbicb ioon rubbi>d 
fill the gilt off the 
gingerbread of the 
^ ^c profe--' - 



pililii'iA.1. CD Id* oirn Accnuni, and 1ietic«, when the lude- - 
(lenilent Labnir Party pnicUim»i that itwas tli« ■un-rt'd duty 
<if Labour to revolt iigiiin»t both of the Mtablinhed [•artitv^, , 
he e^erly threw in hin lot with the I.L.P., aiid madp 
feroi'iouB «iH!«;b6B ugaiDst the (xiuiy/Mim, generiUly deliver- , 
iiu; CDpinuisM and h11 their aidem and abeUi>rB U) Ibo 
infernal |)it. Aa he hail no OHtensible means of living tlie , 
iMilera of the I.T..P. l<ioked rather askance itC him, which 
:|ireiui his doubts 
^reat a Imitor as 
John Bums ; and 
when the I.L.P. 



Ill an explosion of 
[wrBunal BUimoeity 
IwtwMu the leiodere, 

J declare 






fr'iiii Ilie S.rst, and 
iba( the principal 
<bin^ to b« done 
wa» tn (irEftnise the 
Tnllere' Industrial 
l.'?Bi;iie, of which he 
|iii[ii.Bif would bo 




that he hod a i 

preMDce and a muoh liuttcr delivery thitu any one cif their 
I order, thought it well to pvisb him forwani a bit. He began 

"■' speak on Sunday* in Victoria Park, and occaMonally to 
It in a word of his own In dixcussionB. His vanity and 
mhitifin, which bad driven him to the utage, now iiiiivileil 
' "0 the wider theatre of ixiiitioa. He took part in urgan- 

?'oceHsiuns or an o<-ca>iional great denionstratiou at 
ark, and at an elect icn for the Loudon County Con ncil 
« waa no active and no zealoun that he was markeil by the 
,« of the party m a likely man. 
But Uasler Algomno's ambition fioared far above that 
■* being a mero pi-lilicnl heeler. He axpired to bo a 



^^ ^ '"'!'^'^' At lhi» stage. 

L»dy DoroiTiy 
Patteraon, aver en (he lu.jk-out to gather any lish int.. 
her net, made siime inquiries as to Algerti<m Bradfortl, 
and finding that he was a presentable young tnitn. 
wked him to lunch, as sihe wished to take his o[union 
on the Btibject of the orgimiwtion of working woman. 
Algernon was prodigiously flattered, but not ft little 
embarrassed. He bad Dot a tuit of clothes which was 
not out at elbows ; hut the opportunity was too good li^ 
be lost, BO he induced his room-mate to pawn his watch, 
and with the nrooeeds he hired a eomplfta suit of clothes 
for the day only. 

Very proud indeeil wm Algernon wlien he brushed hi* 



Chixafying Chatsworth. 



75 



bair ami curie*! the o:\<\< of ]iij« hk ujrache before starting on 
the eventfiil vi^it t«» Lvly D »n>thy. 

She \va#< alone, an<l aj ologine 1 for tlie absence of Sir Peter, 
who had been called away iij^on a most important dramatic 
business. At that moment Sir Peter was lazilv smoking a 
cigar in his back room, for it boretl him to death to see all 
the cattle his wife i>ersisted in cultivating. 

The nyta and downs in the young man's experience hail 
not made him forget his manners, and Lady Dorothy was 
agreeably surprised to tind that the Secretary of the Toilers' 
Industrial Lsague was capable of talking intelligently, and 
behaving himself at table as if he had been accuse )me<l to 
dine out. She matle Tip to Algernon with even more than 
her usual effusion, ami as for p<x)r Algernon, well, he was 
only four-and-twenty, and Lady Dorothy represented to him 
all the unknown world of ^lolitics, culture, society and wealth, 
for which he had such longings, and from which he was so 
relentlessly shut out. 

It was not surprising, therefore, that before the lunch was 
over he had become her devotdl slave, while she felt she 
could count upon him for any services that she might 
need. 

Sir Peter sneered; thought that her Algernon did not 
seem to him to amount to much, excepting as an additional 
charge upon what he called the Secret Service Fund, for 
Lady Dorothy soon found out the actual condition of 
Algernon's exchequer, and delicately furnished him with the 
actual money he needed to cut a presentable figure. Then 
she paid the expense of a hall, in which he summoned a 
meeting, and which she aildressed, and from that moment 
the Toilers' Industrial League came to mean something more 
than its Honorary Secretary. Hence, it had alrea<.ly about a 
hundred members who subscribed a shilling a year, and 
boasted of branches in half a dozen towns ; and Algernon 
indulged fond anticipations of the time when it would own 
a newspaper of its own. 

It therefore need not be mentioned that Algernon tarrie<l 
not when he received the telegram, but promptly ai)i)eared 
in his accustomed place at the table of his charmer. She 
began the subject delicately. 

" Sir Peter," she said, " has every reason to believe that, 
in the. next administration, he will be offered a high post, 
but of course it is out of the question to dream of serving 
under any one." 

" Of course," said Algernon sheepishly. " Premiership, or 
nothing." 

" Silly boy I ** said she, looking at him, with a smile w^hich 
would have been roguish if she had been twenty years 
younger ; but even as it was it filled Bradford with delight. 

" Well," said she, " you will be glad to know that the 
time is approaching when Sir Peter will be able to take his 
proper place before the country." 

"Reallv," said Bradford. "Has that Will case then 
been ^^' 

" Pshaw ! " said Lady Dorothy, biting her lips, for she 
hated to be remindeil of the one incident which ha<l in a 
moment destroyed her husband's career, and blighted all the 
ambitions of a lifetime. " We never speak of that," said 
she reproachfully. 

" I beg your pardon," said Bradford penitently ; " what is 
it that y«)U refer to ? " 

" It is this," said she, brightening up — " that he is going 
to support the Toilers' Industrial League as energetically as 
you and I have always wished he would. He hesitated for 
a long time, in order to see whether you were worthy of 
support, but your enthusiasm, your industry, your 
enterprise ami your fidelity" — with a look from her blue 
eyes — "have so won him that he will support you — fiot 
publicly, of course ; that would never do." 



" Of course not !" Slid he.. 

** You know what I mem ? " 

Bratlford's eyes sparkled. This was indeed good new/?. 

" Yes," she said, " I thought you wo\dd be glad to hear 
it, but it will require very hard work on your part, my deav 
Algernon — Bradford, I mean." 

" Oh, do not ! " he said. " Please call me Algernon." 

".Welt well," she said, accepting his hand, which he 
stretched out to her across the table, and giving it a delicate 
little squeeze. " Well, jvell, Algernon — be it so, if you like,, 
but it will require very hard work." 

" I will work," said her protege, " I will work my fingers 
to the bone for Sir Peter." 

" Or for Sir Peter's wife," thought the little woman, but 
she said nothing. 

" Then," she continued, " how many candidates do yoii- 
think the Toilers' Industrial League could put into the 
field ? " 

The question rather bothered Bradford. He bad been 
counting up that day the members of the League who hadi 
sixpence in their pockets, which he thought of borrowing, 
but as he had come to thie conclusion that there were^onl}* 
three who had it, he thought better of it. 

So Algernon determined to put a bold face upon it, anA 
said that they were prepared to start six candidates at a 
moment's notice. 

" Six ? " said she : " why, we want sixty ! " 

" Sixty ! " gasjied Algernon, " and we have only a hundred 
members of the League altogether 1 " 

She appreciated to the full his consternation, and went ob 
quietly — "Yes, sixty candidates. Do you not think that 
they could be forthcoming?" 

If she had asked for six hundred, Algernon, poor fool, 
would have made the same answer. Taking courage from 
despair, he said, " Certainly, certainly, Lady Dorothy ; when, 
do you want the list ? " 

" Well, not quite so fast," she said ; " but I want to tell 
Sir Peter that, if he is able to guarantee the election- 
expenses of a contest, and further, of a living wage— not 
more than a living wage — for the members who are elected,." 
do you think you could get sixty ?" 

" Oh, easily," said he, with effusion — " easily ! " and 
therein no doubt he six)ke the truth. 

"That will do," she said. "Sir Peter will be delighted. 
Of course, it must be a profound secret. Not one word as 
to where the money comes from, for Sir Peter always does 
good by stealth, and, in fact, I think the best plan would be 
for Sir Peter to have nothing toiio with it at all but through 
me, and then it will be a personaV obligation." 

Algernon blushed to the joots of his hair, and kissing her 
hand with much greater effusion than if it had been the toe 
of St. Peter, he departed as if walking upon air. 

Thus it \vas arranged that the Toilers' Industrial League 
was to cut a iireat fisjure in the coming General Election. 




CHAPTER YIL 

CHINAFYINO CHATSWORTH. 

* AYING left in the capable hands of Sir Peter Patter- 
son the task of organising what may be described as- 
the Gold Brigade in the House of Commons, Messrs. 
Glogoul and Faulraann were free to turn their atten- 
tion to the duty of preparing Chatsworth for the residence of 
its future owner. Faidmann left this task chiefly to Glogoul, 
who had been in China and knew something of the tastes 
and life of the great Mandarin. 

" The first thing to be done," said he when talking it over 
with Faulmann, " is to make Ping Yang Yaloo absolute lord 
and master of his o%vn domain. We can have no trumpery 



76 



The Splendid Paupers. 



vested interests standing in the way of his sovereign will 
and pleasure. I have a shrewd idea that we shall find the 
ground cumbered thick with all kinds of ancient privileges, 
traditional customs, and I know not what. It cost us a 
million to buy Chatsworth. I should not be surprised if it 
cost us another million before we had a free hand to deal 
with the estate as if it were our own pro^ierty." 

" Heaven forbid ! " said Faulmann ; " when the Duke sold, 
he sold everything he had to sell." 

"Yes," said Glogoul, "but unless I am very much mis- 
taken, there are no end of other interests in the Chatsworth 
estates which successive dukes have allowed to grow up, 
And it will cost us no end of trouble to get rid of them. 
There are rights of way, privileges of the public, etc., etc. 
However, I will go down and see just how things stand." 

The result of Glogoul's visit to Chatsworth was, that he 
had considerably under-estimated rather than over-estimated 
the amount of money that would be needed to acquire the 
public rights existing on the Chatsworth estate and in its 
neighbourhood. In order to Chinafy the place it was 
necessary that the public should be excluded from the park, 
and as much of the neighbouring country added to the 
park as was possible. All access to the enclosed domain 
should be cut off. That was necessary for several 
reasons. Ping Yang loved seclusion, he hated Euro- 
peans, and was miserable unless he was absolute lord 
of every foot of ground on which he stood. He was 
extremely fond of the chase, which he followed more after 
the fashion of an Indian rajah than a Chinese Mandarin. 
He had a jungle specially preserved in Southern China, 
where he was wont to hunt tigers ; and Glogoul well knew 
that, whatever else failed, the Mandarin would never consent 
to be without his tiger hunt in the centre of Derbyshire. 
** But," said Glogoul to himself, " the thing can be done. 
If English noblemen have reared pheasants like barn-door 
fowls for their annual sport, there is no reason why Ping 
Yan^ Yaloo should not rear tigers. In one resj^ect it 
would be easier, for there is no likeliho^xl of vagalmncls 
poaching on our preserves. But before tiger-hunting can 
be followed in Derbyshire we must have our jungle, or at 
least our enclosed preserves, through which there will be no 
right of way excepting at j)eril of life." 

Glogoul went over the estate with a local estate agent, 
merely telling him that the owner wished for privacy, and 
that he wanted to have as largo a part of the county as 
possible for his exclusive use. The land agent stared, and 
«aid it was impossible. 

Glogoul said, " All right ; but let us at least overcome the 
impossible on the astral plane." 

The agent shrugged his shoulders, but finding Glogoul 
peremptor}' he set to work. By evading Matlock, Buxton 
and some other large to^vns, and keeping as far as possible to 
the hills, which were only sparsely tenanted, and the valleys, 
which were occupied only by a few pit villages, they found 
that some very large tracts of country, one stretching from 
•Chatsworth towards Ripley on the south, another including 
the Peak district to the north, a third coming close to the 
hill on which Belsover stands, and completely surrounding 
the ancient hall of Haddon, were available for their purpose. 
By this means they secured several hundreds of thousands 
of acres, from which it was conceivably possible the public 
might be excluded. 

After si)ending a week over his plans the agent came to 
Ologoul in despair. 

" I don't see how it can be done," he said. " Of course, 
you give all the tenants on your estates notice to quit — you 
may buy up the estates of other landlords and eject their 
tenants ; but many hold leases which are not terminable for 
many years. There are a number of rights of way which 



cannot he extinguished. There are many roads, and the 
estate is crosse<l by one or two railways which cannot be 
interfered with." 

" Nonsense ! " said Glogoul. " Let me see your plans." 

After studying them for some time he came to the con- 
clusion that as a last resource it came to a matter of jx)unds, 
shillings and pence. The less important roads could be 
diverted, high walls could be built on either side of the 
railways and of the more important turnpikes. 

" But," said the agent, aghast, " to build all these walls — 
and, as you say, you wish to have them from fifteen to six- 
teen feet high — would involve almost as much masonry as 
the Great Wall of China ! " 

" That is a mere detail," said Glogoul airily ; for he already 
began to see how this gigantic building operation would 
facilitate certain other schemes. He had only twelve 
months' grace. At the end of that time Ping Yang Yaloo 
and all his retinue were to arrive at Chatsworth. Before 
that time the whole population must be cleared off the 
territory, and walls must be built round the whole esta*^e, 
high enough to shut off Ping Yang Yaloo, his janissaries, 
and his tigers from the outside world. 

The task was very much simplified owing to the depres- 
sion which had prevailed for some years in Lancashire. 
This was the direct result of Ping Yang's successful compe- 
tition. At least half the mines in Derbyshire were now 
idle. In the three districts which had been marked out as 
the tiger preserve, only two were still working. A portion 
had already migrated, and the distress had reduced the 
problem with which Glogoul had to deal to half its original 
dimensions. The district was poverty-stricken, and Glogoul 
calculated that it wouKl not be difficult to buy up the lease- 
holders and clear out the remnant of the population. It was 
necessary, however, to " bear " the market for landed estate 
in that district. Faulmann suggested that there was nothing 
so likely to shake down the value of landed property as a 
sense of the insecurity of its foundations. " It is a mining 
county," said he, " and so many of the mines have been laid 
idle that it ought not to be impossible to do something of 
that sort." 

" What do you mean ? " asked Glogoul. 

" Some time ago," said Faulmann, slowly, " when I was 
in Derbyshire, I saw an extraordinary phenomenon in the 
shape of the gradual subsidence of a whole tract of land. 
The pit props had given way, and the land was settling 
down, causing a kind of slow avalanche down the hiUside 
into the valley below. Farms, houses, engine-rooms were 
all shaken. As long as the pit is working and the props are 
renewed, the natural consequences of mining are averted, 
but when the pit is idle the pit props decay, the ground 
falls in and depreciates the value of all the buildings on 
the surface. Could we not facilitate that process ? " 

" Humph I " said Glagoul ; " I think that a little dynamite 
judiciously placed in the shallower workings might produce a 
useful psychological effect on the minds of property-owners 
on the surface. But it will have to be done very carefully." 

In a few weeks the newspapers were fuH of an earthquake 
in Derbyshire which had occurred in the neighbourhood of 
the half-desert«d town of Alfreton. It produced a panic 
which had led the population to seek refuge in the nelds, 
dreading another shock. There was no doubt^ the scientists 
said, that it was a chock of earthquake. The ground rose 
and heaved and then settled again. A distinct tremor was 
felt for several miles around the scene of the disturbance, 
which seemed to be in and about the neighbourhood of 
Alfreton. Newspaper reporters by the score visited the 
place, and whatever of sensation the earthquake had failed 
to produce was promptly manufactured by these diligent 



Chinafying Chatsworth. 



77 



scribes, who, in the dearth of any genuine news, magnified 
the rumble of every jmssing cart into the approach of a 
coniing shock. 

In spite, howe\rer, of the diligence of the newspapers the 
panic was somewhat subsiding, and the inhabitants were 
returning to their shattered ho.nes, when the country was 
startled by the report of a more disastioui earthquake close 
to the town of Ripley. 

The old ironworks where, in former times, the great 
girders wuich span St. Pancras railway station had been 
constructed had been idle for a couple of years. There 
were therefore no workman employed at the time when the 
shock took place. The tall chimneys and the buildings 
were levelled with the ground. Up the hillside at Ripley 
the tremor hatl bean distinctly fe!t, and all could see the 
great crack in the walls of the Town Uall. At the same 
time there was a renewal of the former shock at Alfretou, 
but it was not so violent as before. 

About this time a renowned professor from the university 
of Tokio, in Japan, a country in which earthquakes are 
almost as familiar as thunder-storms, demonstrated com- 
pletely to his own satisfaction, and to tha bewilderment 
of the English public, that the county of Derbyshire 
had become the centre of a series of seismic shocks which, 
in all probability, would increase in intensity for a year 
or two, and then gradually die away; but in the course 
of that time the district would bo readered practically 
uninhabitable. 

This article, which it is needless to say was handsomely 
paid for by Dr. Glogoul, pnxluced a panic in the threatened 
region- Every one made haste to clear out at whatever 
sacrifice. The value of landed property fell by ten and 
twenty, and then, with leaps and bounds, by fifty ])er cent. 
It was impossible to let a house in the neighbourhcKxl of 
Ripley and Alfreton. The roads were lined with inhabitants 
flying with their goods and chattels from the next shock, 
which they were assured would ba more violoat than those 
which had already taken place. 

Many of the more hardy natives remained in their 
holdings, while some of a more sceptical turn of mind 
detenuined to wait for the further verification of the 
Japanese professor's predictions. The professor indicated 
that in a.cjrdance with the invariable law which had been 
discovered by the experts at the seismological observatory in 
Japan, the next shock would probably occur in a fortnight, 
some fifteen or twenty miles to the north. It w«)uld be 
followed directly by other shocks, which he thought would 
probably prove dangerous to the neighbourhood around 
Buxton. 

Hardly a fortnight had elapsed bafore the newspapers 
reported that the prediction of the exj^rt had been all but 
too truly reaUsed. Immadiately belo*v the hill on which 
Peveril of the Peak had reared the castle of Belsover, there 
lie the remains of what wis at one time known as the 
model colliery village, founded by a Newcastle coalowner, 
who used to boast that it contained neither publican, 
polic3man, nor pauper — a boast which would have been 
better justified if as much care had been taken to supply 
good drinking water as there was to exclude the detested 
beer. With the decay of the Lancashire trade the mine 
had been laid idle, but a considerable number of the inhabit- 
anta continued to cultivate allotments, eking out a precarious 
Jiving by the aid of «xld jobs in the neighbourhotxl. 

The thinl shock difteretl from its predecessors in occasion- 
ing a great loss of Ufe. It occurred at midnight, and almost 
the whole population perished in the ruins of their houses. 
When Faulmann read the telegrams in the morning pai>er, 
he handed the pa|>er to Glogoul, merely remarking, " That 
coat fifty hves. Was it necessary to kill so many V " 



"Oh,'* said Glogoul, "what are fifty men? — a mere 
bagatelle ; not one fifth of those who are constantly 
blown up in colliery explosions quite aimlessly, whereas 
now " 

" Of course," interrupted Faulmann, " it is quite different ; 
the end justifies the means." 

" Certainly," said Glogoul. " I think the time has com© 
for us to play our next card." 

So the great firm of Glogoul and Faulmann wrote a letter 
to the Times stating that his Excellency Ting Yang Yaloo, 
who had recently bought Chatsworth, had been filled with 
compassion on hearing of the fate ot the unfortunate in- 
habitants of the district in which he was about to reside^ 
He had, therefore, instructed them to state that from the 
depths of his commiseration, although his property might 
ha the next to sufifer, he wished to subscribe £10,000 towards- 
the relief fund for the unfortunate victims, and in the mean- 
time he woidd do what he could to give employment to 
those who had lost their means of subsistentv by th© 
catastrophes. 

The newspapers were loud in their praises of the munificent 
Mandarin, and Messrs. Glogoul and Faulmann commenced 
the first section of the great wall which was to surround the 
estate. They had no lack of labour, and they got it cheap. 
Meanwhile, when the panic was at its height, Messrs. Glogoul 
and Fciulmann, through secret agents, bought up almost all 
the property in the selected areas. 

By this means within three months of the first earthquake 
at Alfreton, the whole of the laml, with the exception of one 
plot, which stooil almost in the centre of the estate, had 
passed into the possession of the firm. A few leaseholders- 
here and there obstinately refused to part with their holdings ; 
it was therefore necessary to re-enforce the argument of 
earthipiake by one which would appeal more directly to the 
instinct of self-pr servation. 

While the northern wall was rapidly being pushed forward, 
there appeared another letter in the Times by the Japanese 
professor, whose warnings had been so signally verified by 
the event, calling attention to the fact that there was great 
danger of an outbreak of epidemic disease in the earthquake 
region, and recommending that the local sanitary authoriti6» 
and resident landowners should take instant steps to examine 
their water suj)j)Iy and to look to their drains, otherwise the 
consequences might be most disastrous. 

Now it hapi)eued that midway in the ground which 
Glogoul had selected for the Southern tiger preserve there 
stood a little village which centred round a Baptist chapel. 
This chai)el was the only place of worship in the village. 
The pulpit had been occupied for many years by a piou» 
and devout minister, who had promptly utilised the earth- 
quakes as the occasion for a series of revival services which 
had led to the gathering of almost the entire populatioD 
of the hamlet into the fold of his church. A religious exal- 
tation took ix)ssession of him. He quoted the Psalms as to 
the protection of those who sheltered themselves under the 
everlasting arms, and regarded the immunity of his village 
from earthquake as a direct proof of Providential interposi- 
tion. His fiock, imbued with the same belief in the guardian 
care of Providence, refused to listen to any overtures of 
Glogoul and Faulmann, or of their agents. They were there, 
and there they meant to rem tin. It was therefore necessary 
to prove to them that their confidence in Providence was not 
proof ag dnst the resources of civilisation. 

The village drew its water from a deep spring which 
bubbleil up on the hillside, and which was con<luctei\ 
through a long pipe to the fountain in front of the chapel. 
When the professor's warning appeared in the Times the 
medical officers of hedth for the county m.ide a speciai 
examination of the sources of water supply, and reported 




The Splendid Paupers. 



r u ibcy timid see tliere w .s uu sigu that wi-uld 

,_ltify R f«M of fttl l!|lllltJIlliC, 

Two Jsys aftflrwAnia the Niinister wa« »iuUetiiy tnlieti ill. 
Ou a doctor being Mnt Tur ho auil tbnl ilie »>.vin])Uinis were 
tbuia of ANiutia cbulern. lu ivnt days tlie minliiter waa 
•iomi. Ilie urigin of ilie e]>iileiuiu was sliruutled in luyalery 
tu all flxeeptitig Iwu iuhu. The ubulera gwrius which Glug'ml 
liiul uarefiiliy ptewrvuil In ice »iuce hh return rroui Chihn 
liad lieeu UWrared ai the billHide sjirlDg, And bad done tbeir 
work with the precliiun of trained aKsnsains. The ejudemic 
'.lid nut spread, but it vim very vjruloat within a Mnull area. 
fBv ihfl time the Unt victim bud bjBO burieJ. the leaseB •'( 
I the laud iu Cbu ualuc^eJ diiJ'iut tiere iu tlie Btfuug- 
o( Mesani. 




The . 

tfwiuiorWuglir 
vrilb it the uumi 
.^]elIlOinst^ntillu nf 




JemoDstr a 1 1 o n i 
•jvi the worklesH 

itah«H n-fiose 

ity Wiis Buffi- 

«ieDil>- keen to 
luake them fol- 
low &ny leadur, 
au luattcr who 
lie might be, 
if be gave them 





be dealt vdtb 
'I'hBra "ere several DCrimuiagea, and in 

uue or tvro plaeB* the breml-sbupa were li">iod, and eveiy- 
iLing iieomed to indicate that matters would rajiidly get 

At Ihiif juiH-liire, deciuini! thnl the psvcbolugica! moment 
had arrived, Me»si«. Ulogi-ul and Faiiiaiauu ])Ul themselvea 
i.iTu cuniLuuiiicAtion with the Ui'iiie Secretary and the 
I'reoident of the Lucal Guvemuieni a^ard, TIjey said thst, 
ill view of die extreme preHsure of the distress, they w 
intlruclod by bis Escellency Ping i'nng Yatoo to pnivide 
wiirk on t]i« lai^esC posfilile acivie iu the diBtressed district 
of DarbyaUlre. They bad been at lume diffiuultv tu Biiggent 
the tind of work 
which shoidd be 
undertaken, but 
in view of bis 
Kxielleucy'a de- 
sire for iirivftcy, 
mid also of the 

finding empln 
Lia-ul for I 
Ui^eKt numbwuf 
iliB unemploj-ed 
nl once, they 
hojied they would 
hHve the support 
of public MI'' 
nient in end 
ling the whole of 
his pivperty with 
a lofiy eto&e 
wall. Une of his 
Eiceliency'a 
renHiint for this 



iiHence to the 
local resideoU, 
nud so be desired 
U> keep (hem tu 



ubnuttett 



I that all the demonstrations of the iiueniploytHl 

which were orgHni«>d by the Toilers' Indusirial I.eajiiie 

'.vere cbaracteriBed by the name general features. Bexidcs 

:>L>king for wotk for the unemployed, they made u 

specitio demand that the bloated aristocrata who had 

1»ttened for centuries on the blood and bonen of the 

BOpie should be compelled to disgorge their ill-gotten 

'■ - ".er. They further called for the organiaatjon of a 

. I'f men, indeiiendent of party, who would be ready 

I follow any leader who would rally the forces of the 

iRenng democracy againnl the aristocratic incubus. 1'he 

jvemment at firnt look httle notice of these demouxtrationK, 

It iiuding them growing in importance, Bent out circulam 

b the BowdH of Quardians HUggeBting that eomelhing should 

"^e done. This BUgt-estinu was areeled with howU of 

idiguatiun by the I'oilert.' liwIuBlnal Lengue. Tlwy were 



b'i]<e that they 

would not conflict 

with ibe wishm 

of Her MHJwiy's 

Government. At the same time, they inlimaleil privately 

that they had received inBlruetk.ns to espend £M>0,000 on 

these relief works, 

Tlie delight of the Qovernment can be imagined. TUey 
effusively thanked Messrs. Glogoul and FHutmann, and at 
all the meetings throughout the country wliich were organised 
by theToilars Industrial League, Bntbusiastic votes of thanks 
were )KUi8ed to the great Cbineee Mandarin, whose munifi- 
cence they contrasted, with scathing invectives, iritb Uii» 
beggarly efforts of the bloated aristocrats, most of whom were 
with great liiRiculiy endeavouring to beep their own ])eo[ile 
employed throughout the hard winter. 

In a very sliori time there were 20,000 men employed 
busily digging fouiidallous, hauling stone, and m jiki ng 
mortar to baild Ibe " Little Wall of Ohinn," as it wai 
fwetiously designated. Kever iu the history of 



A Gigantic Conspiracy. 



79 



had such a wall "been heard of. When it was ix»iiited out 

that a high wall on either side of a turnpike rua<l which liad 

always run through oi)en country was decidedly peculiar, to 

say the least, the questioner was always met with the 

' answer that it made all the more work. The one man who 

ventured to oppose the construction of such walls was 

•rudely set upon by the mob and beaten within half-an-inch 

of his life. What was all his sentimental talk about 

' scenery compared with their need for bread ? 

So. the vyork prosiyered. Messrs. Glogoul and Faulniann 
'got their labour cheap, and the Littb Wall of China was 
rapidly encircling the whole domaiu. 




CHAPTER VIII. 

A GIGANTIC COXSPIRACr. 

'HE success of the Comford Mill was no longer a 
matter of doubt. As fast as machines could be made, 
they were set to work, not only in Lady Muriel's 
mines in Inverness, but uixjn Lady Belsover's Welsh 
property, where gold existed in almost inexhaastible 
quantities, although the i)roiK>rtion of stone to gold was su 
great that hitherto it had not been worth the co^' of 
extraction. The purchase of Haildon Hall and of Six 1' as 
was completed, and the produce of the Scottish and 
Welsh Gold Mines came in very opjxjrtunely to enable 
them to carry out their plans fur establishing themselves 
the one on the right, and the other on the left of 
Chats worth. 

Lady Muriel somewhat demurred at the ordeal of having 
to hve in a brand new house, which it was necessary to 
build close to the ancient and romantic Haddun, but it 
was unanimously agreed that it would be profanation to 
touch the hall as it now stands. That relic of the past 
must remain, bearing, with silent eloquence, its testimuny 
to the love and the lives that have. gone, illustrating the 
long and glorious chapter of English history and Euglish 
romance. 

Mr. Wilkes' ta k at Six Elms was very simple. The 
keep, unhurt by the storms of nearly a thousand years, was 
easily stripped of the profanations which its last ocoui)ant 
had accumulated within it. The ancient fountain in the 
gardens was soon repaired, the statues replaced in the 
ancient niches, but the huge ruin of the modern house, 
which had been so cruelly dismantled, demanded more 
extensive reconstruction. 

" How indignant I always feel," said Lady ^Enid, as 
she went over the rootless pile with her husband, 
**when I think of the reckless manner in which these 
stately buildings were abandoned to ruin. From a child I 
have always regarded this house as intimately associated 
with the close of the Renaissance of England. It was here 
the Marquis of Newcastle well-nigh ruined himself ami 
the fortunes of his family by entertaining King Charles, 
with a regal hospitality of which nowadays, alas, we know 
little. On this spacious terrace, the masques were performed 
under the direction of Ben Jonson, in which the scions <jf 
the noblest houses in England took a leading part. On this 
raised dais the luckless monarch looked down on a festive 
scene, one of the last of those which remind me of the 
vanished Italian world. Between us and them there is a 
great gulf fixed." 

"Yes," said her husband, "it is a great gulf indeed. 
Within a dozen years of the time when Ben Jonson was 
superintending merry masques on this terrace, Oliver 
Cromwell was levelling his artillery on the keep from 
yonder knoll, an«l when these sreat guns went off, they 
tolled the knell uf that jocund tiaic' 



" But we shall bring it back," said Lady ^Enid gaily— 
" the masques and music and all the bright revehry of the 
Elizabethan age." 

Her husband sighed, and looked out over the valley, 
where a jmrty of surveyors, under the orders of Glogoul 
and Faulmann, were marking off the limits of the Mandarin's 
domains. 

" I fear, my love," said he, " that there will be sterner 
wc^rk to be done before England may be * Merrie England * 
once more, but not just now." 

"Ctane," said Lady JEnid, "I protest against this spirit 
of gUxnn. The Chinaman will come, and the Chinaman 
will gn ; but we of the old stock will remain for ever." 

"i hoj)e so," said he, "but it will be in the future as it 
has been in the past ; not by isolation, nor by insistence on 
caste distinctions, but rather by the hearty union between 
the English democracy and its natural leaders." 

When Glogoul found that Haddon Hall and Belsover 
Castle had been snatched out of his very grasp, he was 
indignant, but said nothing. He recognised the boldness of 
the challenge that was involved in the establishment of the 
two families on each flank of Ping Yang Yaloo at Chats- 
worth, but he had enough to do for the moment, and beyond 
determining to let them realise the unpleasantness of the 
neighbourhood in which they had bo wantonly ventured, he 
did nothing. 

When the earthquakes began in Derbyshire, Sir Artegal 
was, like every one, considerably alarmed. The fact, how- 
ever, that Glogoul was acting as agent to Chatsworth 
suggested to Mr. Wilkes the idea that there was more of 
human than natural agency in these convulsions. He had 
no evidence by which to justify his suspicions, but he 
knew Glogoul, and knew him to be ca^mble of anything. 

During that winter, while they were slowly proceeding 
with the new Haddon House immediately behind, and out of 
sight of the romantic hall, they were much troubled with 
attempted strikes among their workmen. This was the 
more remarkable, because work was very scarce, and multi- 
tudes of unemployed men were tramjnng around, seeking 
em])loyment at any terms. Sir Artegal and Mr. Wilkes 
both suspected that these things were brought about of set 
puriK:>se, but there was no proof that the agitators who 
denounced them as bloodsuckers were acting in deference 
to orders, and as they always met their workmen with 
the utmost frankness, the interruptions of work were very 
brief. 

What with the earthquakes and the outbreak of cholera, 
the agitation of the unemployed, and the difficulties with 
their own workpeople, tlie situation seemed serious enough 
to justify Sir Artegal in running up to town to talk the 
matter over with liis friend the Prime Minister. He found 
the Premier much harassed with business. A general 
election it seemed impossible to stave off longer than 
another six months. The lack of employment at home 
was great. There was no cessation in the continually 
increasing pressure of Asiatic competition. 

" Things are bad," said he, " and I am afraid they are going 
to be worse. I have just had a telegram from our Ambas- 
sador at Pekin, who hears that Ping Yang Yaloo is about to 
proclaim a still further reduction in the price of shirtings. If 
he does, that will mean the shutting up of the few remaining 
mills that are still running in Lancashire, and an addition of 
some 20,000 persons to the number of the unemployed. 
Fortunately, the promised expenditure of half a million in 
relief works in Derbyshire, will, to some extent, alleviate 
the distress ; but it is a curious business — the same man to 
be throwing 20,000 operatives out of work in Lancashire, 
ami employing 20,000 in buildins a perfectly useless wall 
around his domains in Derbyshire." 



8o 



The Splendid Paupers. 



Sir Artegal did not disguise his alarm at the proKi)ect, but 
found that the Prime Minister could give him little or no 
consolation. He hurried on his w.y from Downing Street, 
and was just in time to catch a great Jewish tinancier, wlio 
was usually supposed to hold in his liands the issues uf 
l^ace and war. 

"I want to tell you," said Sir Artegal, "two things. 
First, the machine is coining gold. In less than three 
months the production of gold will have doubled, and the 
depreciation of gold will begin. That is one fact. The 
second is that I have heard from a sure source that Ping 
Yang Yaloo is coming over here, not for any sentimental 
puri>ose, or any whimsical desire to change his residence, 
but in order to direct on the spot the oj^rations that are 
necessary to enable him to command the markets of the 
world." 

The Jew looked very grave. " Are you sure your infor- 
mation is correct ? *' said he at last. 

"Absolutely certain. All this caterhig for jxipularity with 
the unemployed is but the first move in the great game. 
What the next will be I do not know, but I suspect." 

" What do you suspect?" said the Jew. 

"Well," said Sir Artegal, "no one knows better than you 
the present condi«.ion of most of our uuble families. They 
are compelled to ma' r. tain their jx^sitiim in the counties, 
and keep up an appearance of afHuence, when in reality 
they have hardly enough to buy themselves bread-and- 
cheese. They are keeping themselves afloat by increasing 
their incumbrances ; and tliis process has gone on to such 
an extent that at the present moment, while more than half 
the land of England is supiKJsed to belung to the peers, it is 
in reality, to all intents and puriK)se.s, the proi)erty of 
insurance companies and laud mortgage companies ; and, if 
the truth were told, a considerable number of our landlords 
may be foreclosed \i\x>n at any mo luiit." 

" Yes," said the other, " that is very, very true, but how 
does this bear upon the designs of Ping Yang Yaloo? " 

" Well," said Sir Artegal, " I wish you would make 
inquiries as to whether there has been any attempt in any 
direction to obtain possession of the mortgages, bills, or any 
other obligations which are at present in the market, and 
which would enable their holders to exercise pressure ui>on 
the Peers." 

" Certainly, I will let you know ; but I cannot see what 
this has got to do with your Chinaman." 

" Humph ! " said Sir Artegal, *• 1 may be mistaken, but I 
think I have seen signs that there is to be an attempt to 
comer the Peerage. If this Chinese Mandarin, who is given 
to audacious coups, were to find himself in such a iwsition 
that he could foreclose on one-half the Peers of the realm, 
he woiUd practically have the House of Lords at his mercy." 

" True," said the other, " but, after all, that would not 
matter much. It is the House of Commons where the real 
power lies." 

" Granted ; and you may depend upon it that it is not 
left out of his calculations. I may be wrong, but it seems 
to me that the attack is being prosecuted simultaneously 
upon both Houses of Parliament. On the House of Lords, 
by the acquisition of all the obligations into which the 
Peers have entered ; and on the House of Commons the move 
is rather in the direction of an attempt to disintegrate the 
Liberal Party, and to return to ix)wer a majority so small 
that it could hardly hold its own for a day. This is to be 
done by electing a group of Indei^endents whom they think 
will become the balance-weight between the parties. Such, 
at least, is my reading of the situation." 

The great financier paused for a moment, and then said, 
" I will make the inquiries you wish, and to-monow 1 will 
let you know the result." 



The next day Sir Artegal received a private letter from 
his friend in the City, confirming his worst fears.- He 
re})orted that there had been going on for some time past a 
quiet buying up of all the securities, mortgages, bills and 
other liabilities held by the Peers. No one hitherto had 
been able to guess where and by whom this movement was 
directed ; but the brokers were suspected of being hand and 
glove with Messrs. Glogoul and Faulmann, the well-known 
wreckers. Whoever they were, they had apiJarently ample 
funds at their disposal. 

Sir Artegal locked the letter away in his desk, and then 
sauntered down to his club. On his way he met a news- 
boy, displaying a sensational placard and making the usuai 
unintelligible cry which indicates that they have something 
of exceptional interest, without being able to articulate clearly 
enough to intimate what that subject is. He 8toi)iied the 
boy and bought the newspaper. Unfolding it, he found the 
chief place occujiied by a manifesto by the Toilers' Industrial 
League : — 

To THE WoifKERS OP ENGLAND (so it began), — How long are 
we to suffer uud to pine in our miliions, when a pampered few 
wlio have monopoli^ed the laud are battening in luxury upon 
all the delieaeies of the earth? We do not seek for vengeance; 
we do not even pleud for justice; we ask for bread — bread 
for our starving little ones; breud ft>r our weeping wives; and 
work for the willing workers, who to-day, and every day, are 
seeking for work and finding none. Woi.king Mt» of 
England, now is the hour to enforce your claim. The land- 
lords of England cannot, for very »hame, refuse to follow the 
noble exaujple of the great phibinthropic capitalist who haa, 
at this moment, givi n employment to t( ns of thousands of oar 
starvinjr fellow-countrymen. What this heathen Chinee can 
do, our great nobles must be made to do. Up, then, and be 
doing ! Assemble iu your thousands before the uiansiona 
and the eastles of the Peers. Associate with y«>a all the 
ministers of the Church, all the preachers of the leligion of 
humanity, of mercy, and place them at your head. Inaibt that 
the great nobles of England shall not fall behind the 
heathen Chinee in the services which he renders to his 
fei low-men. 

Signed, on behalf of the executive committee of the Teiler»* 
Industrial League. — Algeknon Bkadfoed. 

Going on a little further, he met one of the best known, 
but most impulsive. Nonconformists in London. 

" Have you seen the Manifesto ? " said he eagerly. 

" I have just been reading it, as you see," said Sir 
Artegal, holding up the paper. • ^ 

" Isn't that great I " said he. " There is the opportunity — I 
what an opportunity for the Christian Church 1 Once more, I 
Labour has gone ahead of the Church." 

" But what are you going to do ? " 

" Do ! " said he. " We are going to have a Conference in 
the Memorial Hall at once, and we are going to rally the 
masses behind the Cross. It is impossible to resist such an 
api)eal." 

Sir Artegal remained silent. His companion looked at 
him in some surprise, and said — 

" Does not this heathen barbarian of China put us to 
shame, with our Ixjasted philanthropy and Christianity ? I 
confess I should feel unable to lift my head and look a 
Chinaman in the face if I were not prcijared to go at least 
as far as he has, p<H)r benighted heathen, whom the Gos]iel 
has never touched. But I must away," said he. " The 
Conference meets in an hour, and I have to draft the 
resolutions." 

So saying, he hurried away. " ^ 

" A rare clever stroke that," said Sir Artegal to himself. 
"To think of invoking the Chinee to whip the Noncon- 
formist Conscience into line. I wonder who thought 
of it.'' 



A Scene in Bouverie Street. 



^1 



As a matter of fact, it was Lady Dorothy who had 
thought of that. After a sleepless night, in which she had 
tossed restlessly to and fro, she had risen at six o*chx;k, 
and had ihdite<l the Manifesto which was now tiaming 
abroad in all the papers. 

On the club steps Sir Artegal met the Duke of Pontiac. 

" Deucedly bad look-out this winter," said he, shrugging 
iliB shoulders. " Have you seen the new Manifesto ? '* 

" Yes," said Sir Artegal. " What are you going to <lo ? " 

" Do! " said the Duke ; " the fact of the matter is that I am 
just at the end of my tether. When the death duties were 
put on, I insured my life, in order to enable my heir to carry 
on the estate without being crippled. I am at my wif s end 
as to how to get the money to pay this year's premium. 
Now it seems that we have to be cornered by a howling mob, 
and enforced by all the fanatics of the Churches, insisting 
that we have to find work for Ihe unemployed. By-the-bye," 
he added, ** do you know anything about the firm of Glogoul 
and Faulmann ? ** 

Sir Artegal smiled and said, " I think I do." 

" Well, I received a confidential circular to-day telling mo 
that they had reason to believe, from signs which they do not 
think could mislead, that there was going to be a revival in 
British agriculture at an early date, and that they were 
willing to negotiate loans for a short period at less than half 
the rate I have been able to get accoinimxiation from 
Benzance Boss, the money-lender in Piccadilly." 

" Take my advice," said Sir Artegal, " give that firm a 
wide berth. There is a snare in that offer." 

" Really," said he, " and what must I do? * Need-r must 
when the devil drives;' and I would rather go to (xlogoul 
and Faulmann than face Boss again." So saying, the Duke 
departed. 

Sir Artegal had hardly seated himself in the library before 
he saw an old college friend, who was now leader writer i»n 
the staff of the Daily Tribune. With a few words (»f 
greeting it occurred to Sir Artegal that it might be well to 
give young Piper a hint. The Daily Tribune ha*i fi>r sourj 
years past nobly distinguished itself by the brilliaucc and 
intrepidity with which it had espoused the cause of the jxtor 
and the oppressed. It had often carried its advocacy far 
beyond the limits of prudence, being too much given to the 
belief that philanthropy could secure the success of a business 
enterprise. But when all allowances had been made, it liad 
exercised for several years a healthy influence in English 
public opinion. It was alert, brimful of fight, and with a 
positive passion for flying at the highest game. 

Piper was one of the young lions of its staff, and from old 
acquaintance Sir Artegal felt that he would be justified in 
giving him some inkling as to what was going to liapi^eu. 

"I see the 7Viftu/.e," said Sir Artegal somewhat drily, 
**ha8 been going the way of all the papers, and falling down 
and worshipping at the shrine of Ping Yang Yaloo." 

" Well," said Piper, "just think of it. Half a million of 
money to be spent in relief works. It is enough to put 
our aristocracy to shame. My chief is going to write a 
regular scorcher, and he told me to browse aroimd, 
and pick up a few illustrations with which to drive his 
arguments in." 

'* Well," said Sir Artegal drily, " it would be very ba<l if I 
ahould spoil your scorcher. Will you oblige me by coming 
with me to the hall to see the latest telegrams ? " 

"Certainly," said Piper, wondering what on earth Sir 
Artegal was up to. 

As they entered the hall, the tape machine ticked off a 
message, which, on being ix)8tetl up, reatl as follows : — 

Srakghal — This morning, SlJrting quoted ten per cent, 
lower than yesterday's rates. 



"Do you know what that means?" said Sir Artegal, 
|x>inting to the quotation. 

" No," said Pii>er. 

" It means," said Sir Artegal quietly, " that Ping Yang 
Yaloo has plnyed the card which has l^een feared for long, 
and the mills, employing 20,000 hands, will be closed to- 
morrow." 

" You don't say so," said Piper. 

" You may take that to your Chief from me as a fact. 
You may add also that I have reason to suspect a gigantic 
conspiracy on the part of this said philanthropic Mandarin, 
the ultimate object of which would be to leave both our 
commerce and our lands absolutely at the mercy of this 
Mongolian millionaire. Nothing that has ever been dreamed 
of in * C< rners ' approaches the game which he is playing. 
You know 1 do not speak lightly," said Sir Artegal. " I 
never talk to newsi>ai)er men al)out aftairs, but it seems to 
me the present situation justifies the dei>arture from my 
usual nile." 

That conversation was brief. But the evident earnestness 
of Sir Artegal ])roduced its eflect. The next morning, when 
every one turned to the D>jily Tribune, expecting to find a 
scathing onslaught against aristocratic selfishness, with any 
amount of magnih^quent reference to the union of religion 
and denuxTacy, which was to bear such sp]en<iid results 
at the Memorial Hall — an onslaught which was to call in 
thun<l»r-toneR u\)ot\ the pam]^red i)eers to' provide work 
for a starving i)eople — they found a leading article, full 
of dark, mysterious menace. The writer, taking "Fall of 
Sliirtings" as his text, pointed out that, by the absolute 
mono]>oly of the cotton market, the great Chinese Mandarin 
was able to crush out the last remnants of the cotton indus- 
try in England, and that after this was done there was 
nothing to hinder him from raising his prices to any figure 
he })lease<l. " It is curious charity," the article concluded, 
" which provides millions in Derbyshire for building a Little 
Wall <»f China round Chatsworth, when at the same moment 
the same number of men are deprived of an opportunity of 
earning good wages by the arbitrary will of the Mongolian 
millionaire." • 

CHAPTER IX. 

« 

A SCENE IX BOUVERIE STREET. 

tTtHEN Glogoul opened his Dai/y Tribune the next 

If I morning he could hardly believe his eyes. Up to 

^^^ this moment everything had been going swimmingly 

for the great game. He had taken a good deal of 

])ains i>artly to bribe and partly to humour the other papers, 

in onier to induce them to turn a blind eye <m the possible 

d mgers of his operations, but the Daily Tribune had been 

so eager in supporting anything and everything that tended 

to give immediate relief to the unemployed, that he was quite 

♦lumbfounded when that paper showed a disposition suddenly 

to double back on its track. 

The moment Faulmann entered the sanctum a long 
consultation took place. The result was a cipher cablegram 
to Shanghai, the reply to which came back in a few hours, 
with the one monosyllable, " Buy ! " 

Dr. Glogoul threw the cablegram over to Faulmann, with 
the remark, " That's your business," and dej^arted. 

Faulmann had a lively remembranJjk of an adventure 
which a compatriot of his had extJSenced when Mr. 
Walledoff had sent him on a commi«RiSlito buy any paper 
that might be worth having in the London market. That 
gentleman's method was marked by a primitive, not to say 
barbarian simplicity. It was not Faidmann's idea of con- 
ducting a delicate operation, to jump into a hansom and 
drive down to Bouverie Street rush upstairs calling for 






G 



82 



The Splendid Paupers. 



the proprietor, and then to bhirt out, ahnost beft>re they had 
said "Good morning," that he wished to buy his paper. 

At the same time Ping Yang YalnVs business required 
hast«, and it would hot do to UhA around the bush, so he 
sat for a moment and wondered. 'J'hen something occurred to 
him which seemed to give him pleasure, for he smiled, got up 
and walked backwards and forwards for a time, as if he 
were unravelling a clue. Then he smiled again, and sat 
down and rang for his bank-VKx^k. His balance was very 
high. They had only the previous week received a remit- 
tance of half-a-million from Shanghai, which had been 
])laced for the moment in their drawing account ; then, 
taking a blank cheque with him, he drove of!', not to 
Bijuverie Street, but to Waterloo Station, from which he 
tt)ok a ticket to Leatherhead. 

Now, at Leatherhead there lived no newspaper pro])rietor 
nor newspaper editor, but a gentleman who was well known 
by Mr. Faulmann as the legal adviser to the proprietors of 
the Daily Tribune. 

A short time before he had l)een lunching with this 
gentJeman, who had in the course of a friendly gossip told 
him with what difficulty he had just extricated the Tribune 
from a worrying lil>el suit. It was one of those cases in 
which the editor had allowed his natural and justifiable 
indignation to outrun the pnxiucible evidence of the truth 
of the facts upon which he was commenting. It had cost 
the proprietor £5,000 in hard cash to get out of the law- 
suit, which, if it had l>een pressed, would have resulted in 
his incarceration in Holloway Gaol. It was tiie memory of 
the freshness of this exi)erience, and of the unpleasant 
exigencies of his position, which encouraged him to hoj)e 
that he might be able to execute his commission. 

He found his legal friend at home. He was surprised at 
receiving a visit from Faulrrrann at that time of day. 
The latter cautiously opened negotiations. 

"I think," said he, "that your proprietor of the Tribune 
was somewhat badlv hit over that lawsiiit." 

" Well, nothing like he might have been hit had it not 
been for me," said the lawver cheerilv. 

" Just 80," said he ; " but even you may not be able to 
save him over this." 

The lawyer pricked up liis ears. 

" What do you mean ? " said he. 

" Oh, nothing," said Faulmann ; "but I thought it was 
more friendly to come and see you at once, than to let things 
go any further." 

" What do you mean ? " 

"Have you seen the Daily T^-ibune this morning?" 

" No, I have not looked at it yet; it is lying in the hall." 

" Well," said Faulmann, "if you will just kK>k at the first 
leader, I think you will understand why it is that I am 
here." 

The lawyer read the article over very gravely twice. 

"Well," said he, "what about this article? There is 
nothing in this article that is not perfectly fair and legiti- 
mate comment upon a question of public interest." 

"Yes," said Faulmann, oi)ening his eyes with affected 
simplicity, " I did not come to complain of that article ; I 
only want to let you understand exactly why it is that I 
came here." 

" Well," said the lawyer, looking somewhat mystified, " if 
you do not wih to complain of this article, why do vou come 
here ? " 

" Because," said Faulmann quietly, " either the writer of 
that article believes that what he says is true, or he does 
not. Of course, you and I know that it is not true. It is 
all moonshine to talk about the mystery of the Mongolian 
millionaire, and it is a cruel, unjust libel to suggest that 
anything but the purest philanthropy has led him to incur 



<uch an expense to relieve your overcrowded market of. 
England ; but we need not discuss this article. I am loc^iiig 
to the future." 

" Precisely," said the la^vyer. " I am beginning to see 
yoiir ]K)int." 

" Of course you do. Y<.)u always see a- point quicker 
than any one else. You know wkat kind of a mab "yoxu 
editor is. If he believes that there is this gigantic con- 
f;j)iracy, he is certain to use the Tribune day after day to 
the very uttennost limits to detect, unearth and denounce 
the cons])iracy and all the conspirators." : •' 

" Yes," said the lawyer ; " 1 guess that is pretty much 
what he will do. lie is game enough to fight.*? . . , ; " i 

" Precisely," said Faulmann. " Now, as you know, he 
cannot go very far in that direction without coming across 
our firm, and I thought it kind and friendly just to come and 
tell yoii that, as we are peaceable men and dislike litiga- 
tion, we never go to court if we can avoid it. But the first 
line that api)ears in the Tribune which is actionable — and 
he sails very near it to-day" — will lead to proceedings, if 
}K»ssiblo, criminal proceedings, and we shall claim £100,000 
damages. Of course, we have no wish to do any such thing, 
and would very much rather that we were let alone ; but the 
l)est way to avoid trouble is to face it frankly before it comes. 
That is my business," added he, with a smile. 

" But, stay ! " said the lawyer. " I quite appreciate the 
danger. I qirite see that it would he pretty, difficult to 
defend a case against the munificent philantnroiiist whom you 
re])resent ; but Ructions never cares for those things. Now, I 
should not be in the least 8ur])rised if he does not put his 
foot into it, and commit himself in the very next issue ; in 
fact, I think it might be just as well if I came back to town 
with you. The position is much too delicate to permit of any 
fooling around." 

" By all means," said Faulmann, pleased at the thought 
of having an uninterrupted gossip with the lawyer all the 
way to town. * 

After a glass of wine and a biscuit, Faulmann and his 
host went down to the station. Finding themselves in a 
carriage alone, they waxed confidential, and Faulmann 
intimated delicately — for he always did things delicately— 
that they had not yet decided ujwn their legal adviser, and 
as thsy had a very great deal of business in hand, he would 
receive it as a favour if Mr. Keeley could suggest a firm to 
whom they could safely entrust the gigantic interests of 
their principal. 

Keeley's eyes twinkled. " My dear Faulmann," said he, 
" why not give that to me ? " 

" But," said Faulmann, " I never dreamed that you would 
be willing to take it." 

" Take it I " said he, " why not ? You know I have 
always been delighted to serve you." 

"Well," said Faulmann, "that puts another face upon 
the matter. I had no idea that I could have your ser- 
vices, but I shall have to see my partner first, and in the 
meantime do I understand that you are at liberty to act on 
our behalf?" 

" Certainly," said Mr. Keeley, delighted. " It would be 
good business for bath of us," he said cheerfully. 

Then Mr. Faulmann drew back, and for a whole five 
minutes he never spoke. At last, after making up his 
mind as if for a great deliberation, he approached Mr. Keeley 
and said, almost in a whisjx'r — 

" You are legal adviser to the Da.'Jy Tribuney are you 
not ? " 

" Yes," said he ; " but the friendship between us would 
render it quite im]>os8ible for my clients to come to blows." 

"I was not thinking of that," said Mr. Fauhnann, and he 
was silent again. 



A Scene in Bouverie Street. 



83 



Before he broke that silence the door opened and another 
passenger got into the carriage. All further conversation 
therefore was interrupted until they arrived at Waterloo. 

"Now,** said Mr. Keeley, "you will drive straight to 
Douverie Street. Where shall I see you afterwards V " 

"I shall be delighted if you will dine with me at my 
club," said he. 

' All right," said Keeley. " At half-past seven to-night." 

When Keeley reached Bouverie Street, he found affair** in 
a very lively condition in the office, and Mr. Ructions was 
closeted with the Rev. Tomkins Potts, who, full of righteous 
indignation, had come down to denounce the editorial in the 
Tribuns as altogether unworthy of the situation. 

"What was the use of having an organ of the British 
Democracy if, at the very critical moment, it was to go over 
to the enemy in that fashion V *' 

Mr. Ructions mildly intimated that, after all, even the 
editor of an organ had some right to have a ju<lgnient, and 
that he was resjionsible for his own editorials. 

"What 1" said Potts, indignantly storming up and down. 
""You due to quote your judgment, your own and unaided 
judgment, against the clear leadings of Providence, shown 
by the union between associated labour and the whole 
church of GihI ! Why, it is i)reposterouH, sir ! " 

Mr. Ructions was a j>atient man, and accustomeil to the 
outpourings of the righteous. He therefore only said, 
" I think we must agree to differ." 

"We must not agree to differ," said Tomkins Potts, 
stamping his foot u^wn the floor of the office. " I am here, 
as a delegate from the executive committee appointed at the 
Memorial Hall yesterday, to insist that you shall ^" 

" Insist, Mr. Potts ! " said Mr. Ructions, turning ])ale. 
** What right have you to insist as to how the Tribune shall 
be conducted ? " 

There was a menacing note in the editor's voice which 
showed his companion he had gone too far. 

"I beg your pardon," said Mr. Potts. "We all know 
that you are quite sound. No one is sounder in all 
England ; but even Jupiter sometimes nods, and able editors 
may sometimes make a slip. Conte now, do not let us 
get to words about it. The fsct is^that we have always 
relied upon the Tribune to bj our banner-bearer in the fray, 
and we are truly at a loss to acc(»unt for your e.\traordinary 
article of yesterday. Never was there such a chance fur 
striking a deadly blow at the Peers. But all can be 
re-established, and what we want is a real scorcher of the 
old type — one that will raise blisters wherever it touches. 

"Really, Ructions," continued he, extending his han<l 
with a bland smile. " I feel this is a p3rsonal matter. 1 feel 
aihamed to call Ping Yang Yaloo a heathen. The old pagan 
philanthropist in Shanghai has put us to shame, and I felt 
humiliated to think that so magnificent, so truly Christiaa 
— as I may really call it — an initiative on his |)art had met 
with such a response in the organ which wc have fur so long 
been proud to follow." 

Ructions shook his head, and said nothing. 

Potts ha*! no sooner disapjHjared tha.i Ke^ie}' came in. 

"Oh," said Ructions, with a sigh, "1 am so gla<l to see 
you ! The fact is, 1 have had a whole series A»f statements 
from various quarters which leads me to the very grave 
suspicion that we are on the vecge of the won^t c(»nspiracy 
against the free government of this country, and against the 
prosperity of the i)eople, that has ever been conceive<l." 

Mr. Keeley looked with a quick piercing glance at 
Ructions. 

" Ah ! " he thought, " my good friend has got on to his 
hobby-horse, and it is running away with him. Now 1 
mu«t check this." 

" What do you mean, Mr. Ructions ? " 



" I mean about this Ping Yang Yaloo." 

" 1 thought so," said Keeley. 

" Have you heard anything ? " 

" Yes," said Mr. Keeley, " that is why I am here. I have 
just had a visit from the representative of Ping Yang Yaloo 
to complain of the article in to-day's paper, and to give me 
formal notice that, if nother line appears in the same sense 
as that article, they will bring an action against the Tribune, 
claiming £100,000 damages." 

Mr. Ructions sprang from his chair. 

" There ! That is the last link that I wanted, in order to 
jirove the conspiracy. 1'hey know that we are on their 
trail, and now they have come to you to try to gag me. 
But they shall do nothing of the kind ; no matter what you 
sav." 

**Sit down, Mr. Ructions," said Mr. Keeley shortly. "Sit 
down. 1 have something to sav to you." 

" What have you to say?" said Mr. Ructions. 

" You remember," said Mr. Keeley quietly, "the trouble I 
got you out of about a month ago? " 

** Yes," said Mr. Ructions ; ** J remember. It was very 
g<KHl of you. It only cost £5,000; it might have cost us 
£20,0)()." 

" Precisely," said Mr. Keeley. " Y\m know I have always 
been your friend. I like you i»ersonally, and 1 think you 
conduct the paj^er admirably. I shall be very sorry to see 
you come to grief. Mark my words, Mr. Ructions, you will 
inevitably u|)set the apple-cart if you have any more such 
articles." 

" I am going to write one. I will go to the uttermost 
lengths." 

" Stay ! " said Mr. Keeley. " It is all very well for you 
to talk like that if the Daily Tribune is your own paper." 

" No," said Mr. Ructions, " it is not my own property, but 
I have a free hand." 

" Y'es," said Mr. Keeley, " so long as you are on it, but no 
longer." 

Mr. Ructions was striding backwards and forwards in the 
room. Stopping in front of Mr. Keeley, he said, " What do 
you mean ? " •* 

" Only this — by-the-bve, may I smoke ? " 

" Yes." 

" Have a cigar ? " 

" No, I never smoke in the office." 

" 1 think it would do you g<xxl, then. I think it would 
calm your nerves. Never get excitetl when you are discus- 
sing business. Now 1 am going to tell you somelhing I 
nevQf told you before. When I got my cheque from your 
j>-<Hrletor for the £5,000, he took me aside and 8|K)ke to 
me se iously about you. He said that he liked yoii very 
well, but he could not afford to ]»ay away thousands of 
]>ounds like dirt in this fashion, and that he would really 
like me to consider whether or not he should give you 
notice." 

"H J said that ? " exclaimetl Ructions, starting from his 
chair " He did ? The scoundrel ! " 

" Come, come, Mr. Ructions, don't lose your temper. I 
told hi;n that I thought it would be a thousand pities to 
terminate the relation l)etween vou ; that he could not find 
any 01 e to fill your place as well as you filled it ; that libel 
suits were accidents t<i which every man was oi)en ; and soon 
I talkeil him out of it. But I could not induce him to abandon 
it entirely. His last words to me were — * Well, Keeley, I do 
nothing this time, but if ever Ructions gets into another libel 
suit, he goes; he goes that moment."* 

" I am glatl you told me that," said Ructions calmly. 
" Because it make.s mv duty quite clear." 

"It is?" said Mr. Keeley. 

" To hand in my re^guation at once." 



84 



The Splendid Paupers. 



" Come," Haid Keeley, " ilon't bo a fool," 

" No," said Ructiiinx. " That is juat what I do not want 
to be," and, seizing a memorandum, he began wricjng hia 
Tesigaatioii as editor of the Daily Tribune. 

"Nonsense!" laid Keeley, as he aat watching him, 
"what an idiot you are 1 What conceivable good will 
that do you, or your caae, or any one else, writing in this 
headstrong fashion ?" 

" Well, but," said he, " what can I do ? Here I am with 
the evidence in my jxissession of this conspiracy, assailed by 
people who do not know the facte, because I have gone so 
far, and yet I am not to be allowed lo go any further." 

" No," said Keeley. " You have just got to keep quiet, 
and do nothing." 

" I'll be hanged if I wilt I" and he signed the resignaiioa 
with a great flouri«h. 

"Now," Bsid Kieley, 
" 1 will see yowr pro- 
prietor and put the ca :e 
before him, and com3 
back here at ten. It 
ia not a deadly matter. 
But do not go and 
throw yourself out of 
a situation, and gener- 
ally put your proprietor 



ence of finding a new 
editor at the very ahort- 
eat notice. Bexides, my 
dear Buctionn, I do nut 
believe you have got 
any evidence to prove 
any such conspiracy, 
and I do not believe 
there is any conspiracy." 
"But there in," saJd 
Buctions. " I do not 
mean to say that I have 
got legal evidence that 

but I have got evidence] 
that has convinced me." 
" Just BO ; but evi- 
dence that cannot l>j 
produced in court isinot 
evidence at all, from 
my point of view ; and 
really you are not jnsti- 




THE EDITOR SPRASO FROM HM CHAIR. 



fied in going it 



> this n 



1 T, as your legal a.]v 



e you that you t 

Leaving the editor, the lawyer it>'\ 
Tjopietor. He found that personage in a very ugly humour. 
He had been badgered all day by persons who had called 
Upon him to expostulate about the article in the THbutie. 
Tue Dinment Keeley entered his room, he said, "I tell you 
what it is : I wish I had sacked this man. Imitead of 
lacking him as I wanted to, you've let me into thisi" 

" Come, come," aaid Mr. Keeiey, " he la a very good editor. 
Besides, there miy be more in it than we know." 

"Mora in it 1 I do not care what there is in itl 
He is a perfect fool — that man; not by being foolish, hut 
by being too wise. He is always writing to-day about con- 
tingencies that only develop themselves on the day after 
to-morrow ; whereas, if he would only be a diy behind the 
fair, b^tcail of being a day before, we might get some pick- 
ings. And upon my wonj," said the proprietor, as he sank 
into a chair, " upon my word, I am heartily sick of it. I 
wish Mr. Walled' S, or any other man, would buy the paper. 



lock, stock, and barrel. It would lie a good riddance. I am 
Hick and tired of the whole thing. ?eo)>le think It is all 
cakes and ale being a newspaper proprietor. If they had my 
place for a week they might know better." 

"Come, come," said Keeley; " I have juat left the office, 
where 1 have been trymg to keep Ructions quiet. He is 
bent upon following up the line he has taken t<v4iay." 

"Tiiat he will not!" said Mr. Holmes viciously — "that 
he will not dol" and he began to write a letter to the 

" Well," said Hr. Keeley, " this looks as though things 
are comity to a crisis between you. What ia the best way 
to get out of it ? " 

" I had better give him three naonths* notice," said 
Mr. Holmes, with a sigh, "or pay hia salary for that time, 
and replace hira with 
some one who will go 
straight, and not kick 
over the traces in tbi» 
diabolical fashion. 
Upon my word, I haTO 
no patiwice for this I 
Wliy, even the Dailtf 
Newt is enthusiastic 
about the Memorial Hall 
meeting; and here is 
Ructions of all men in 
the world, undertaking 
_tt throw cold water d own 

the back of this " 

But here Hr. Holmes 
stopped. He couid not 
fiijd enough eloquence 
with which to express 
his indignation. _ 

Mr. Keeley was silent 
a bit, as if thinking. 
Then he Kaid to him — 
" Mr. Holmea, would 
you really like t« seQ 
the paper ? " 

"What?" said hfc 
"Sell the paper? No; 
certainly not! Who 
put such an idea inta 
your head ? " 

" Nobody," said Mr. 

Keeley ; " I thought 

you said so just now." 

" Xo," said Mr. Holmes. " Sell the paper, indeed I Why, 

hxik what a property it is ! " 

"Yes," said Keeley indifferently j "but properties can be 
bought." 

" I would not sell it— no, not for £250,000 ! " 
" That is a good deal of money," said Mr. Keeley, 
" especially as you only paid £26,000 for it ten years ago." 

"Yes, but look what a position it has. Why, there is not 
a paper in London that has the pull we have to-day." 
" That is rather Suctions' doing, isn't it? " Haid Keeley. 
I would put another man in his place. There are as goixl 






egoto 



" We!l,he might make it awkward," said Keeley, clrumming 
on the table. " Let us look at the question practically. 
If Ructions goes and finds some one else to back him to the 
tune of £250,000, would you be dinpoBed to listen ? " 

"Xo, I would not. Not a penny less than £300,000. 
For £300,000— there! you can Uke it! For £300,000, and 
he may have the Tribune, or any one else, btit not & 
penny less ; not for Ructions, or for anybody." 



Roping Them In. 



8s 



Hr. Keeky, hiTiDg obtained what he irAnted, took up hia 
fast u)d dep*rted. 

He met Mr. Faulmiuui at half-past eeren. At 9.30 he 
liad hiB cbeq le for £300,000 id his pocket, and was driving 
randly down to Bouverie Street. 

Hs found Ructions looking even more pale and distraught 
4hu) he wu in the afternoon. 

" Oh, Hr. Keelej, I am glad to see ;ou I I am very much 
(jothered. The very infomiation oa which I relied to prove 
the conBpiracy hai disiLppeared, and 1 have had a deputation 
froOi the Toilers' Industrial League, declaring that I have 
been guilty of the cruelleat injustice to the mo<t benevolent 
philanthropiet of our time ; and 1 would not like to feel," 
eaid he, " that I have been unjust to anybody." And the 
good fellow looked troubled. 

"Never you mind," said Mr. Keeley. "I have aeeu 
3Ir. Holmes, and I have fieen the other people, too. 1 will 
tell you what we have fixed up. Believe me, there Is no 
truth about this 
• lory of eon. 
-spiracy. There is 
DO conspiracy, and, 
what is more, Mr. 
Holmes is per- 
fectly infatuated 
with admiration 
for Ping Yang 



CHAPTER X. 



Yalco 



The fa-t 



is if 

been for me, he 
would have written 
to you a letter 
which would have 
forbidden you to 
say another word 
against Ping Yang 
Yaloo." And Mr. 
Keeley nibbad his 
hands and laughed 
-cheerfully. 

" I do not care 
what he does. 
You see, I am 
awfully driven juot 
now. My youngest 
child is lying he- 



I life 



and 



DAYUOBT BTILL 



death at home, and 
I am ihorthanded, as I have had to send Piper off down to 
Derbyshire to look into the matter on the spot, and I do not 
know really which way to turn." 

" My dear fellow," said Keeley, who was a good-hearted 
man on the whole, and who knew loo well what fate was 
hanging over Ructions' head. " Do not disturb yourself. 
Mark time. Leave the whole question open, and wait until 
events prove themselves. Do not publish another line of 
editorial about the whole subject until you see me 
again." 

"All right," said Ructions, shaking his hand. "You 

liave alwaya t>een a giwd friend of mine. I think that is 
the best advice on tho wliole." 

" I am quite sure it it," said Keeley. " Good-night, and get 

away home, and to bed." 

Ten minutes later Mr. Keeley handed in Mr. Faulmann's 

cheque to Mr. Holmes, and received from him in return 

formal instructions to draw up a transfer of the Daily 
Tribune, and all the apjiurtenances thereof, to Messrs. 

Gli^oul and Faulmann. Tlie wh(>le transaction, however, 

wM to be kept a profound secret. 



TTTHEN the Editor reached home he found his child 
Itl much worse, Hia wife, harassed by long suffering, 
^"' was threatened with imminent collapse. Wearily 
the editor turned to watch by the sick bed of his 
little one, who was tossing and moaning unconsciously. His 
wife had lain dowu to get a little sleep. He w.is done, and 
there vit no sound in the chamber except the ticking of the 
timepiece and the occasional moan of the httle sufferer. 
Ructions had been under a severe strain for some time, 
and now he felt that everything was breaking beneath 
him. It was doubtful . whether the child would be able 
to live through another day, his wife was distraught and 
wearied wiUi bug watching, and he was perpleud 
when confhinting tlie inexplicable problem! of life, and 
half wondered whether it would not be better fur the child 
to he taken away 
from this evil world 
and be at peace. 
That did not, how- 
ever, prevent him 
from gaatly 
smoothing the 
pillow of the little 
one, and giving it 
the draught which 
had to be ad- 
ministered every 
half -hour. Day- 
light still found 
bini at his vigil 
beside the bedside 
of the child, who 
seemed, thank Qcd, 
to be sleeping a 
little more quietlv. 
Tlie dim twiUght 
w*hich preceded 
sunrise gave place 
to the grey light 

iiig, and still he 

many thingx, and 
wondering after all 
whetlier life was 
not a hideous mistake, and, that in endeavouring to make 
things a little better, he was only making confusion worse 
confounded. 

He sat there, chewing the cud of many bitter thoughts, 
when the sharp rat-tat of the postman roused him from his 
reveries. It was the rude intrusion of the outer world, and 
he hastened to the door to receive his mail. There was only 
one letter, and that in the handwriting of Mr. Keeley. Hs 
o|>ened it mechanically, not caring to speculate as to what 
its contents might bo. It was vary brief and very kind. It 
ran thus:— 

Sly dear Ructions, — I was very distressed to sec you 
Inokin^ so ill to-day. I liavo talked the matter »ver with 
Mr. Iblmes, and we have agreed that yon aunt hnvi> an 
instant rist and change of air. Please find cheque in -liieeil 
for £230, with which Jou will be able to Inko your "if" nud 
little one ahroad as bood as it recovers, as I havo no Jjubt it 
will. Mr. Piper will take your place in your aUHCDCu. 

At any other time Ructions would have been indijinant at 
this sudden arrangetueut for his absence from the )>a)ier 
which he had condudeii, and whose prosperity he had built 




AT HB 1 



86 



The Splendid Paupers. 



up year after year. Bat on the wliole he felt th;U it was 
the best that could have happjneil. He w.is fe.irtully run 
down, he knew, and he was in no tit condition to wage the 
life and death struggle which would be involved if that 
conspiracy really existed which he felt it might be his duty 
to unmask. Clearly the way opening before him was the best, 
and languidly dismissing the subject from his mind, he 
turned to his child's sick bed. To his great satisfaction he 
saw that the little one had opened its eyes and was looking 
at him quietly, and without any of the feverish titfulness 
which it had previously exhibited. He felt its pulse, took 
its temperature, and a great thankfulness came into his 
heart. It seemed as if after all the little one was to be 
given back to them. 

When he was still in the first glow of delight at the un- 
expected blessing of returning hojMB the door opened and his 
wife came in. She had slept toundly for six hours and felt 
that her strength had come back. She saw the change 
in the child at once, and she exclaimed with joy, " Oh, 
George ! " and could say no more. They both bent over the 
couch in which their little one was lying, the whole being of 
both blending, as it were, in an exultation of gratitude too 
fervent to find expression in words. 

That afternoon, when Mr. Ructions came down to the office, 
he found Mr. Piper already installetl in his place. " Taken 
charge already, you see," said rijxjr i>leasantly. " The fact 
is, we were all alarmed about you, and you must not put a 
pen to paper for another three months. Of course we shall 
be delighted to have your instructions," he continued 
deferentially, " but you have to go right away and leave us 
to steer the ship as best we can." 

" How did you come back ? " asked Ructions. 

" Oh, Mr. Keeley telegraphed for uie ; said you were ill, and 
that I had to come back and take charge." 

" Did you find anything ? " asked Ructions. 

"No," said Piper, "everything seems all straight there. 
It is surprising the number of men they have at work from 
the Peak to Ripley. The men are as thick as bees all 
along the line of the Little Wall of China. I can't say I 
like it very much," he added, " but after all there is work 
being done, and being paid for too. He is putting on who- 
ever will do a day's work, and they are made to work and 
no mistake." 

"Well, well," said Ructions, "keep your weather-eye 
open in that quarter while I am away, and wire me at once 
if things come to a crisis." 

" All right," replied Piper, whereupon Ructions sat down 
and wrote cordial letters to Mr. Keeley and Mr. Holmes, and 
left the sanctum which had been the scene of his early 
triumphs, never to return to it more. Of that, however, 
he knew nothing, and with a light heart he set oflf homo 
to find that his child was progressing favourably, and that 
the doctor held out every hoixj that in a few days they 
would be able to remove her to the south coast, from 
whence after a short stay they were to proceed to the South 
of France, there to forget in the land of flowers the cares 
and the worries of the last six months. 

The same morning Faulmann told Glogoul how he had 
fared in his negotiations for the purchase of the Tribune, 

" That is right," said Glogoul ; " we must not appear in it 
at all ; be warned by the ghastly mess that Walleaoflf made 
when he bought the Latter Day Gazette, There must be 
no ostensible change in the ownership, the editorship, or the 
policy of the naper. Keeley will see that nothing appears 
which is calculated to damage us, and it will not l^ difficult 
to work the oracle so as to convince the enthusiasts who 
get the paper that they are really carrying out their own 
programme. Meantime you hatl better see Sir Peter again 
and ascertain how things are going." 



When Faulmann reached Kensington he found Sir Peter 
iudisiHJsed. ** My wife," he said, " will tell you everything- 
Talk to her as if you were talking to me." 

Faulmatm, who naturally distrusted women, was inclined 
at first to depart in a huff, but on second thoughts he 
decideil to see Lady Dorothy, and he had not been five 
minutes in the room before he saw that he had decided 
wisely. She spoke as if she had an absolute right of 
ownership in Sir Peter, and assumed throughout with a 
certain calm confidence that whatever she decided should be 
done, would be carried out. She expressed a violent 
antipathy to the aristocracy, and exulted in the success of 
the agitation which her dear Mr. Bradford was conducting. 

" Yes," said Mr. Faulmann, " that is all very well ; but 
now I am here I would like to suggest to you whether 
something could not be done to reduce the glut of the labour 
market." 

" I wish there could," she replied. " But what do you 
suggest ? " 

" Well," said Faulmann, " when there is not enough work 
to go round, what do we do in order to secure a fair distribu- 
tion of wages ? We run short time, do we not ? " 

" Yes," she said hesitatingly. 

" Now," said Faulmann, " do you not think that the time 
has come for a vigorous agitation for a six hours' day and 
whole holidays ou Saturdays, especially in the textile 
trades ? " 

" It sounds well," said Lady Dorothy ; " and no overtime^ 
of course ? " 

"Of course no overtime," said Faulmann. "Overtime 
would sjx>il everything." 

" But," she asked, " what about wages ? " 

" Oh," said Faulmann airily, " we must always stand for 
the living wage!" 

"But how would you define the living wage?" asked 
Lady Dorothy, 

" The living wage," said Faulmann pompously, " is the irre- 
ducible minimum of wage upon which a working man can 
keep himself and family in decent comfort; but practically,"^ 
he addetl, with a smile, " the living wai^o is the actual 
wage as an irreducible minimum with as much as can be 
added to it by judicious agitation." 

" I see," said Lady Dorothy, " a five-days' week, a six- 
hours' day, and a living wage never to fall below the present 
rate. That would no doubt catch on." 

" I have no doubt of it," said Faulmann. " I hope Sir 
Peter will introduce a Bill to that eflfect next session." 

" Oh," said Lady Dorothy, " certainly 1 TJiero will be no 
difficulty about that." 

" I am glad to hear it," said Faulmann, half sarcastically ; 
and then, seeing that he had put things in train, ho rose 
to go. 

Sir Peter, whose indisposition did not seem to have been 
very severe, was playing billiards with a friend. 

"When you have finished your game," said Lady 
Dorothy, looking in, " I should Uke to have a few words 
with you." 

Half an hour afterwards ho came up to her little office. 
"My dear," she said, "pray take a seat. Everything is 
going beautifully. You are to make a speech at an early 
date, in which you must express your opinion that the time 
has come for a new departure, «nd that, in view of the 
increasing lack of employment, it is necessary to put the 
textile industry of the country, as a beginning, upon the 
footing of six hours a day -and five days a week." 

Sir Peter stared at her for a moment, and then repeated, 
" Six hours a day and five days a week ; and what about 
wages then ? " 

" Ohf** said she ghbly, " the Uving wage is to be insisted 



Roping Them In. 



87 



upon ! There are to be no reductions ; that, of course, is a 
tine qua nony 

" But," objected Sir Peter, " there is practically no cotton 
industry left in the country." 

"So much the easier," she replied, " to lay down sound 
principles— there will be no vested interests to stand in the 
way." 

"Yea," said Sir Peter, "but is it not locking the door 
after the steed is stolen ? " 

"Never you mind that," said Lady Dorothy authorita- 
tively ; " you must have something to give Ixxly and sub- 
stance to your labour programme. I am just going to tele- 
graph for Bradford. You will get the Bill drafted, dear, 
won't you ? " 

He shrugged his shoulders with a kind of des]xiiriug 
acquiescence and returned to his billiards, saying to himself, 
" It is too mad for anything ; but we must play the game, I 
suppose. At any rate," he added languidly, " she no longer 
bores me with her caresses." 

And with good reason. Sir Peter had long since ceased 
even to disguise his distaste f(»r such demonstrations ; but 
there was another who in the anlour of his youthful devotion 
would have rejoiced to kiss even the hem of her garment. 
As it was, he was by no means confined to such Lenten fare, 
and Lady Dorothy experienced in the ardour of his aflfection 
something of the afterglow of the days of her somewhat 
skittish youth. 

" Well, Algernon dear," she said, as he entered and covered 
her hand with kisses, " how goes the campaign ? " 

" Bravely, Lady Dorothy," said he ; " nothing could go 
better. I have found an invaluable assistant who is going 
to stand for Blankshire." 

" Really ! " said Lady Dorothy. " Where young Wilkes 
was defeated ? " 

" Yes ; it is the man who defeated him." 

" You don't mean Lord Bulstrode ? " 

" Oh, dear me, no : I mean a Mr. Brassy. A wonderful 
man ; knows every inch of the ground, and a marvellous 
organiser. He says that he knows of at least twelve goml 
men and true who are ready to start for any part of England 
if their expenses are paid, and who will advocate any pro- 
gramme your ladyship pleases. They have such implicit 
confidence in your judgment, you see, my queen," he added, 
looking up into her face with an almost ecstatic devotion. 

" Oh, you silly boy 1 " she said, passing her hand smoothly 
over his face. " What nonsense, to talk like that to an old 
woman like me." 

The young man started as if some one had stung him. 
" Don't say that," he said bitterly, as if he were going to cry. 

" Don't say what ? " asked Lady Dorothy. 

" Don't call yourself old," he said impetuously. " What 
are a few years by an almanack ? To me you are radiant in 
immortal youth." 

" Now, really, Algernon," said Lady Dorothy, " if you 
talk such nonsense I shall have to send you away, and wu 
have 80 much business to transact." Then cutting short 
all further protestations she unfolded to him the new 
programme. He agreed that it was superb ; but how was it 
to be launched ? 

" Oh, Sir Peter will do that I " said Lady Dorothy, " and 
you wUl see that the Tribune will take it up eagerly, and 
after a time all the Liberal papers will come into line." 

" Sir Peter 1 " said Algernon, with an absent look. The 
young man was thinking in his vanity of the day when the 
promulgation of the new progranmie would be relegated, 
not to the husband who was on the retired listi but to the 
lover with whom it was arranged. 

Lady Dorothy smiled to herself as she divined the train 
of thought passing through his mind. 



" Never mind, dear," she said consolingly ; " the whole 
success of the programme will dejiend uix)n you." Where- 
u|)on she tenderly pressed his hand, and he, grasping hers 
in both of his, raised it to his lij)s, pressed it passionately, 
and then departed. 

No sooner had he gone than Lady Dorothy touched her 
bell. Her secretary ap^ieared. "Isal)el," she said, "you 
know where the Rev. Dawson Johnson Hves ? " 

" Yes I " replied her factotum. 

"Put on your hat and tell him I want to see him on 
important business at once." 

In five minutes the Rev. Dawson Johnson was closeted 
with her ladyship. Lady Dorothy was one of those 
philosophers to whom all religions are equally false, and one 
of those politicians to whom they are all equally useful. 
She always put in an appearance at the Oratory on great 
occasions, made a point of consulting the Cardinal on all 
cases of conscience, regularly took communion at the parish 
church, but at the same time always attended any important 
gathering among the Nonconformists. The Rev. Dawson 
Johnson was one of her jn'otegh. It was he who certified 
to her husband's admiring constituents the hberality with 
which she contributed to his collections whenever she 
attended his place of worship, and the good man honestly 
believed that Lady Dorothy in her heart of hearts was a 
Nonconformist. 

" And what new work of mercy is it that you are con- 
templating now ? " he asked, entering the room as if he were 
approaching a shrine, and remaining standing until she 
begged him te be seated. 

" Sir Peter is not well, Mr. Johnson," she said. " He is 
suffering from insomnia, and the other night after he had been 
tossing restlessly for hours, he said to me, * Dorothy, love, I 
cannot bear to think of those poor people down at the Derby- 
shire relief works without any spiritual consolation. You 
know there are twenty thousand of them, many of them with 
their families, and I am afraid that there is sore need for 
the faithful ministering of the Word.* " 

" I have no doubt of it," said Mr. Johnson. " But what 
can we do ? The charge of the souls of our own congregations 
lies too heavily xxyyon us to allow the regular ministry to 
follow these sheep into the wilderness." 

"Of course," said Lady Dorothy, "you don't dream for 
one moment that Sir Peter could think of depriving your 
congregation of your ministry. No, he said to me, * If you 
could see Mr. Dawson Johnson and talk it over with him he 
might be able to arrange for some gospel services. If he 
Avould look after the spiritual side I should be glad to 
attend to the material.' To make a long story short, Mr. 
Dawson Johnson," she added, "Sir Peter has given me a 
cheque for a thousand pounds, which he desires me to place 
at your disposal for this purpose. There is, however, one 
condition, and that is that you must not allow any one to 
know to whom you owe this grant. Let not thy right hand 
know what thy left hand doeth 1 But I must apologise for 
quoting scripture to one who knows it so much better than 
myself." 

" Oh, Lady Dorothy," said he, as his fingers closed over 
the cheque, " this is too much, too much 1 There are indeed 
some men of whom the world is not worthy." 

Mr Dawson Johnson hurried home, and immediately 
told his wife, and she, in the strictest confidence, communi- 
cated it to three of her intimate friends who happened to 
call that afternoon. By the evening there was not a person 
in Mr. Dawson Johnson's congregation who did not know 
the story of Sir Peter's bounty. 

As for Sir Peter himself, when his wife told him what she 
had done, he merely looked at her with admiration, and 
remarked, " How you do rope them in I " 



The Splendid Paupers. 



CHAPTER XI. 



*'UANKS ui rlio agitation carried on by the Tuilers' 
liidiistriiii Lengiie, aeveral of tbe nublen incurred i-uri- 
aiilerabte exjienditure io proviiliDg work for the uni<iii- 
pluywil ill their itoinediate vicinity. Tbe Toiiers' 
^iie iiwiHrtid tliat every one who was eiu|iloyail on re'ier 
works tboiiiil 1m jiaid full uoion waged, a rule which tbey 
allowed only tu be relaxed at tbe great relief wurira tii 
Derbyshire, whoro l.be iiion wurked tor their rations, with an 
eilr& &lli>wHui'u if they vrerti iu;cooii>a,Died by their H'ivea 

In order to meel exjienditure thtu: furced ii]ioD thetii hy 
Hiular i^itAtiuu, thtiy liad recuurse tu the luoue^'-louderu, 




wuulil Pi>naent to it 25 |>er cent, reductirin as ranscitii, lliis 
numey tu be applied in iiruviding relief-works for Ihe 
uDBQijiloyed. The scbeiue wan more popular than the Six 
Houm' Bill, which, however, had been eiith iwastically adopttnl 
by the Tribaiit, and was in a fair way of bwuiutug oim of 
the leading planks of the Radical |i'alforui. 

As for the brewers, they were fur a time al their wil»' 
end. But light at last dawned in the shape of a conitnuni- 
cation from Shanghai, The great tnau'a private aecretar^ 
wrote to Glogoul : *" Rejoice, luy ftiend, rejoice! Jimjams is 
the word ; it i« jimjams that will do the trick. Afler manr 
experiments, we have succeeded in extracting from a weed 
which grows luiiirianlly on our eetalon in Southern China, 
ail ensetice which unites all the quahlieH of all the sedatives, 
siiinulaatj and narcotics at pteseut known to mankind. The 



" tantu 



In nine cases out i>( ten thtiso money- lend en were e I e 
iw. Glogoul and Foulniann or their secret alUes. H r ul 
in high spirits, fur every week added to the nuinhc f 
tantaolee which he was slowly but surely faateaug rou d 
the estaieH of the nobility. With the exception of a fen 
ennobled brewars and the owners of town proiiwty he hail 
almost every peer iu the realm on his books. He (trudged 
nvuu the«) exce|)tioiu. Brewers and ground kndlurde must 
be got at somehow. 

After a consultation with Fatdmaon, it was decided that 
the campaign against the ground-rents iiiUst be taken u| 
with vigour. The Land Nationalisation League rece ved 
tliroiigh Lady Dorothy, a cheque for £5,000, lo be e nj loyoil 
ill an agitation, the central features of which were denvvl 
iiom Iho I'ian of CampMgn. No more gr-iind-ren » we e 
' {Mud excepting to trustees of the Toilers' Ini t al 
e, 'rh.;y wore to remain banked until the lau U nla 



ea en e is made up in («llela about the size of buckehot* 
(tae r these poUetB diasolved in a pint of w^lsr will mike 
»nv no feei JoUy, and half a duiten will tuake the barde«l- 
1 eoiled lojier gloriously drunk. Before communicating thii 
for atiou lo you, we have tried it ujion men of all naliunsli- 

es at the Sailor^' Hume at Shanghu. It affecte them aU 
the sa le. When once men ifave begun to drink jimjams, 

hev will drink nothing else. It is medicinal, aromatic, 
dehghtful to the taste, and can be )>ruduced fur a mete 
noth ng. We have got the secret, and 1 am convinced thai 
there ore millions in it. We are sending you over a 6nl 

uns -nment by this mail." 

Glogoul awaited with feveriah impatience the arrival oi 
the |iarcel. The moment it came raulmann and he dis- 
s e>i a pellot in a tumbler of water ami tastud it. It was 
] lonnuit to the palate, and almost immedialety it wu 
euullowed the [lartnera were cuuscioutt of a benevokiLt 



Jim JAMS AND Cholera. 



89 



feeling towards each other and towards the world at large 
to which they had been strangers for some time past. 
Glogoiil detected this, and said, *' Let us increase the dose.** 
Thej did so, and by the time Faulmann had taken four 
glasses he was lying helpless on the floor. Glogoul, who 
had a steadier head, dragged his partner to a couch and left 
him there, while he sat down in an easy-chair to analyse 
his feeling 

'* Tes, jimjams," he said to himself, ** is a success. The 
dreamy sensation it produces is not unlike opium. The 
effect, bdweTer, is much more rapid ; and although I have 
only taken four pellets, I am beginning to feel something of 
the hallucinations of hashish. I wonder what the after- 
effects will be?" He determined, however, not to experi- 
mentalise any more that day. 

In about three hours Faulmann slept off the stupor occa- 
sioned by the drug, and immediately asked for some more. 

"No," said Glogoul, "jimjams is all very well for other 
people, but you and I have to keep our heads cool." 

In vain Faulmann begged and implored to be allowed to 
have just one more pellet. Glogoul was obdurate. '* Never 
again I " said he ; " we have too much at stake. But I think 
I know of something that will cure your craving." He 
went to his cabinet and produced from a secret drawer a pill 
which he handed to Faulmann, who swallowed it eageily. 
In a few minutes the room began to swim round him. 

** You scoundrel," he shouted, ** you have poisoned me ! " 

** No, I have not," replied Glogoul calmly ; ** lie still and 
you will soon be all right." 

Faulmann remembered no more. When he awoke he was 
alone. His head was aching, but all craving for jimjams had 
left him. Next morning Glogoul and he discussed what 
should be done. 

" Its effects," said Glogoul, " are too immediate for us to 
put it into general circulation. It must be sold as a patent 
medicine, and the ingredients kept a profound secret. But my 
own opinion is," he added, " that once the jimjams mania is 
set up the patient will go on taking it until it kills him. It 
will, at any rate, relieve the pressure of the labour market." 

The next mail, however, brought him another letter from 
the great man's secretary. " We have," he wrote, " at last 
found the best way of using jimjams. It is not to supply 
the pellets to the pubHc, they are too strong ; and we have 
found, by experiment, that if a man once begins taking 
them he usually dies in three months. If, however, it is 
dissolved judiciously in distilled water it produces a mild 
and pleasing beverase. This is so weak that even a con- 
firmed dru&ard will last for one or two years." 

It was after the receipt of this letter that a company, of 
which the well-known temperance reformer, Joseph Brassy 
of Rigby, was managing director, was established for the 
manufacture of the great new temperance drink, '* Jimjams." 

For once it seemed as if the temperance ^leoplo had 
invented a pop'ilar beverage. The consumption of beer fell off 
day by day. There was a perfect rage for the new drink. The 
beer lords began to loi.k anxiously to the dwindling value of 
their stock. In vain they tried to rally the market. Prices 
continued to falL Then they set to work to combat this new 
and formidable rival. Stories began to be current as to the 
effect of the jimjams mania on persons of nervous tempera- 
ment. The brewers produced an appalling array of statistics 
to show that the habit of drinking jimjams was destructive 
of what might be called the moral tissue of man. Its 
victim became lethargic, and soon exhibited all the traces of 
morphiamania. In many cases sudden death had resulted 
from the stoppage of the heart's action. These cases were 
attributed by the brewers to the deleterious effects of drink- 
ing jimjams. Prohibitory legislation was talked of, but the 
jimjamites laughed it to scorn. Sir Peter made an eloquent 



speech denouncing the plutocratic brewers who were tryine 
to deprive mankind of the one innocent drink which would 
drive intemperance from the land. 

Meanwhile a perfect labyrinth of walls had been con- 
structed round the Derbyshire estates of Ping Yang Yaloo. 
It had been the original intention of the firm to run a wall 
as a kind of ring fence round the whole estate from the 
Peak in the north to Ripley in the south. But after a 
careful examination of the rights of way, the roads and the 
railroads, they decided to make three separate parks. One 
enclosed the Peak, another had Chatsworth as its centre, 
while the third was of an irregular shape stretching from 
Six Elms on the north towards Ripley and Alfreton. When 
the outer walls were finished the great hordes of labourers 
were employed in building extensive lairs, which were all 
lined with hot water pipes. The exact use of these build- 
ings none of the workmen knew. 

The President of the Local Government Board sent for 
Glogoul and Faulmann one day, and inquired what they 
intended to do with the labourers when the relief works were 
finished. They replied that they could, not undertake to 
provide permanently for all this labour ; but if the President 
had any suggestion to make, they would submit it to Ping 
Yang Yaloo, who might possibly authorise a further expendi- 
ture. The President thanked them cordially. 

Articles appeared in all the papers praising the generosity 
of the Chinese millionaire, and a further sum of £100,000 
was granted for the planting of Chatsworth with Chinese 
shrubs and plants. But, as Glogoul said to Faulmann, 
*' This is only a palliative ; nothing short of a good epidemic 
will solve the problem." 

It must be admitted that everything seemed ripe for such 
a solution of the difficulty. The labour camps were filthy. 
Owing to the provident kindness of Glogoul and Faulmann, 
canteens were established in each centre, from which 
practically free drink was supplied to the workmen in the 
latter part of their engagement. Jimjams was supplied free 
as water, and those who took jimjams very seldom took 
anything else. The debilitated frame of the habitual jim- 
jams drinker, the lacklustre eye and the bloodless face, all 
denoted a population incapable of offering any resistance to 
any serious epidemic which might break oiit. 

Glogoul wrote to the medical authorities, calling attention 
to the dangerously insanitary condition of the camps, and 
offered to contribute £10,000 for the establishment of 
field-hospitals, where the sick could be treated. To one 
of these field-hos^utals Ethel Merribel was appointed as 
head-nurse. She entered upon her task with considerable 
forebodings, but she was not prepared for the sudden 
api>arition at her hospital of Dr. Glogoul. 

** Miss Merribel," he exclaimed gallantly, " 1 am delighted 
to see you ! '* 

" But, Dr. Glogoul, I am surprised to see you here." 

" Why," said Glogoul, " did you not know that all these 
hospitals are practically of our providing ? ** 

"No," said Ethel, "I did not. I was at the Derby 
Hospital, and they asked me if I would take charge of this 
place." 

** I am extremely sorry to see you here all the same," 
replied Glogoul gravely, "for I am afraid there will be a 
very bad epidemic." 

" Then it is the very place where I ought to be," she 
answered, smiling. 

" The work is hard, my dear Miss Merribel," said Glogoul. 
" I advise you to exchange while yet there is time." 
There was souiething so serious in his look that she was 
alarmed. 

" What do you mean ? " she exclaimed. 



90 



The Splendid Paupers. 



** It Beems to me that it will be strange if we escape an 
outbreak of cholera," he replied. 

" If so," wiiil Ethel, " it is not for me to desert my post," 
and all expostulations were in vain. 

Dr. Glogoul, although capable of almost anything in the 
cause of science, or of what he considered to be business, 
shrank from letting loose the cholera until he could get 
Ethel Merribel out of the way. Finding that she was 
obstinate, he changeil his plan, and as a result the cholera 
broke out, not in the Ripley district,, as he had at first 
intended, but in the neighbourhood of the Peak, and spread 
southwards. The mortality was awful. The diseaise slew 
ydth the virulence of the Black Death. The deaths in the 
camp which it first struck reached as high as fifty* per cent., 
and the repiaining fifty per cent fied, carrying with them 
the contagion far and near. By the end of the month the 
disease had travelled as far as Ripley, leaving death and 
desolation in its wake. Glogoul made a last despairing 
attempt to induce Miss Merribel to leave the district. 

" No," she replied ; " here I am and here I will remain. 
I am not going to desert these i)oor creatures in the hour of 
their trial.'* 

" I warned you," he said, " while yet there was time. 
Why did you persist in choosing death V " 

" It was my duty," said Ethel simply. 

Glogoul blushed as the pale girl uttered these four words. 
Some sense of the divine in life glimmered before his 
hardened soul. He bowed and left the hospital. 

Two days after cholera struck Ethel Merribel, and she 
lay prostrate, helpless, among the dying and the dead. She 
felt that her last hour had come, and with that certainty 
came a strange sense of ability to see the cause of things, of 
the invisible agencies which were working such havoc all 
around. As in the old hospital at Garlam she had seen the 
spectral forms of Bladud and Faulmann walking with death in 
their teuch through the ward, she now saw One moving among 
the huddled crowd of cholera-stricken wretches, silent as the 
angel of death, ruthless and remorseless as a fiend from hell. 
Where his shadow fell, men writhed in torture ; where he 
laid his hand, they stiffened and died. It was in vain they 
endeavoured to nee from that dreadful presence. And over 
%a he moved there went before him two fiends which did 
hia bidding. One was the spirit of Envy and Hatred, 
which set class against class and divided the masses from 
the classes, without whom they were but as dumb driven 
beasts, while an insatiable hunger was stamped upon the 
features of the other attendant spirit, and he grasped ever 
with the hand of Avabice for more and yet more of the 
world's wealth. 

As she looked, the walls of the hospital seemed to dissolve, 
and in place of the few wretched sufferers who were groaning 
and dying around her, she seemed to see the destroying 
Three^ go out throughout the length and the breadth of the 
land. They spared neither rich nor poor, high or low, fair 
or foul, and ever as the central figure pressed on, his 
attendant spirits made haste to make his way smooth and 
easy. 

As she watched* the death dews gathered on her brow, and 
with parched lips she moaned, " How long, Lord, how 
long?" Then it seemed to her as if a voice replied out of 
the firmament, " Until all who love unite in the service of 
all who suffer 1 " 

As these words sounded in her ears she was conscious of 
a brightness more dazzling than the eye of man could look 
upon and live, and in that light the figure of the foul 
destroyer vanished as a dream, and she ^aw it no more. 

But when the attendant came to her couch, Ethel 
Merribel was dead. 




CHAPTER XII. 

THE TELLOW HAN IN POSSESSION. 

'HE outbreak of cholera effectively dis|)oscd of the 
difficulty which confronted Messrs. Glogoul and 
Faulmann as to how to disperse the crowds which they 
had gathered together in Derbyshire. In other direc- 
tions everything went well for the ten. They had added 
two famous north-country castles to the list of their desirable 
residences to let or sell which they circulated every month 
among the plutocracy of four continents. 

They had also steadily and silently tightened their hold 
upon the pe^rs, until they were in a position to foi-eclose on 
half the estates in England at three months* notice. In the 
House of Commons Sir Peter had not done amiss. He had 
introduced his " Six Hours a Day and Five Days a Week 
Bill" for the textile industries. That Bill was now the 
shibboleth of the Toilers* Industrial Lea^e. The campaign 
against ground-rents was being pushed on with relentless 
vigour, and Sir Peter had carried three-quarters of the Radi- 
cal Party with him in a demand that a grcJatly increased pro- 
portion of local taxation should be thrown ujwn the landlord**. 

It was in vain that Mr. Hopton, now a member of 
Parliament, John Burns and Mr. Burt, together with the 
older Trade Unionists, demonstrated that the Six Hours a 
Day Bill was midsummer madness, when our one formidable 
rival was working his men sixteen hours a day for seven 
days a week. But a species of madness seemed to have 
seized the working classes. They were still under the 
influence of watch wonls which might have had some meaning 
twenty years before, but which it seemed as if they had only 
begun to understand. 

Similar phenomena are frequently to be observed in poli- 
tical history. It nmst have been from this that Baron 
Munchausen conceived the happy idea of frozen eloquence, 
which could be dissolved at a considerable period after the 
words had fallen from the speaker*s lips. There is always a 
certain amount of frozen or latent suggestion in the public 
mind, which is thawed out some ten or twenty years after date. 
In the present instance, the latent suggestion of the wealth of 
the landed aristocracy, which was accurate enough when land 
represented the chief realised wealth of the community, 
was thawed out and became part of the circulating medium 
long after the circumstances had changed, and the landlords, 
instead of being the millionaires of the community, were 
little better than its paupers. In vain were facts and figures 
rained down upon Sir Peter and his supporters. The fixed 
idea of the mob was that the landowner was a Croesus, and 
that the shortest cut to prosperity was to tax him out of 
existence by throwing upon his shoulders the whole of the 
expenses of administration and relief. 

Tt is not surprising, therefore, under these circumstances, 
that a panic began to rage among the doomed class. They 
could see no way of relief; whichever way they turned 
they were confronted with the menace cf ever-increasing 
burdens. Some of them sat still, as tne mouse sits cowering 
under the eye of the snake, waiting helplessly for the 
moment when it will be engulfed down the scaly demon's 
jaws ; others sold out for whatever they could get Their 
estates always fell into the hands of Messrs. Glogoul and ' 
Faulmann. But a minority, headed by Sir Artegal andV 
Lady Muriel, Mr. Wilkes and Lady ^nid, the Jew &iancier 
and a few of the more far-seeing of the clergy and Non- 
conformist ministers, set to work to redress the broken 
fortunes of the old order. The material basis upon which 
they relied was the continually increasing output of the gold 
which flowed from the Comford mill; their spiritual 
reliance was upon the innate honesty and sober o(»nmon- 
sense of the English people, which would in time, they were 



The Yellow Man in Possession. 



91 



certain, rid itself of the frenzy bred by the ix»ison of those 
who set class against class, and who iter^usideii the masses 
that they should regard the c'asse:^, not as their natural 
leaders, but as their hereilitary foes. 

This minority of the elect found a powerful re-enforce- 
ment in Mr. Ructions. He had not l)eeu two months away 
from the country before he foimd that it would be impossible 
for him to direct the course of the paper in accordance with 
his own convictions and at the same time command the 
support of the proprietor. He had no idea, nor had any one 
in the office the slightest notion, that the jiaper had been 
Bold to Ping Yang Yaloo's agents. Mr. Pii»er, who edited it, 
was in blissful unconsciousness that he was doing their 
bidding when he was advocating the Six Hours* BUI. As 
little did he dream that he was the conscious instrument of 
the Chinese conspiracy when he insisted u}X)n increasing the 
burdens on land and taxing the ground landlords to the 
bone. Mr. Piper was an impressionable young man, and 
Mr. Eesley was genial and plausible. In a short time Mr. 
Ructions saw that the paper which he had conducted for so 
many years with such sweat of soul had passed beyond his 
control. Regretfully, but without hesitation, he resigned his 
post. Mr. Keeley wrote to him expressing extreme regret, 
and enclosing a cheque for £1,000, assuring him that his 
services on the Tribune would never be forgotten. 

The Tribune, thanks to the prestige which it owed to its 
first editor, and to the great services which it had rendered 
to the cause of freedom, proved to be the most useful 
weapon in the hands of the conspirators. Ructions groaned 
in spirit as he saw the men, concealed behind his mask, 
stealthily striking at the very heart of Eoglish freedom. 
13ut for the moment he was helpless. It was not for long, 
liowever. Returning to London, ho sought an interview 
^with Sir Artegal, and after long consultation it was decided 
to start a London daily with localised weeklies in connec- 
tion with it in all the largo centres of iK)pulation in the 
land. " England for the English " was the motto of this 
xiew organ, and Messrs. Glogoul and Fauliiiann saw with 
ciismay the entry upon the Held of an adversary so indomit- 
able, wielding a pen so trenchant. By way of a counter- 
Btroke they bought up a series of evening jmpers in the 
country, doing it, not as Mr. Carnegie did a few years 
^before, with a frankness which was quite foolishly above- 
l)oard9 but secretly, so that no one knew that the hand 
^hich controlled the editor was changed. Neither did the 
Journals appear to be in communication with each other, but 
none the less every paper danced to the piping of Lady 
Dorothy, to whom Messrs. Glogoul and Faulmann had 
handed over the task of manipulating the press. She 
employed wherever possible, as editors, the impecunious 
scions of noble houses who had titles and brains, but neither 
principle nor cash. 

So time wore on until autumn, when the great 
Mandarin was to take up his abode at Chatsworth. Every- 
thing for some time nad been ready for his coming. 
Chatsworth had been refurnished throughout in Chinese 
fashion. Most of the pictures had been sold at Christie's, 
and fach of the curios as it was possible to dispose of had 
been scattered to the four winds. The rest were done up in 
packing cases and stowed away in the cellars. The great 
conservatory on which the Duke some years before had 
spent £5,000 for repairs, merely for the amusement of the 
people who came irom far and near to see the greatest . 

rnhouse in the world, had been converted into a stable 
his Excellency's elephants. One whole wing of the 
palace at Chatsworth was set apart for his harem, a con- 
venient term which covered not merely his array of 
concubines, but many of those nunisters to Oriental vice 
whose presence scandalised ancient Rome in the days of 



Heliogabalus, The village of Etlensor had been laid out as 
a barracks for the Chinene bodyguard who were to arrive 
under the disguise of the livery of the Mandarin. In each 
of the three great parks into which his estate had been 
divided there were lairs for tigers, carefully warmed and pro- 
vided with every convenience. Wild animals of all descrip- 
tions were allowed to roam over the desolation which had been 
established in the heart of Derbyshire. Deer of all kind£^ 
abounded, while here and there wallowing ])laces were pro- 
vided for the wild buffalo which had been brought from Africa. 

It is not to be sup^iosed that changes so extensive as these 
could have been carried out without exciting the bitter 
resentment of the multitude of the dispossessed. They were^ 
however, silenced for the most part by the intimidation of 
the spokesmen of the Toilers* Industrial League, all of whom 
were unconsciously in the pay of the conspiracy. The 
Tribune and its weekly satellites demonstrated conclu- 
sively that whatever the hardship might be to individuals^ 
Derbyshire had profited immensely by the building of this 
tiger preserve in the Midlands. No doubt there were fewer 
people on the soil, but those who were allowed to live within 
the Little Wall of China were better off than the miserable 
toilers whom they had superseded. The expenditure of capita) 
also, it was proved, was much greater in keeping one tiger than 
in rearing a thousand sheep, to say nothing of the import- 
ance of varying the monotonous round of sport by the intro- 
duction of the manly and exciting pursuit of tiger-hunting. 

But these sophistries no more sufficed to silence the 
murmur of discontent than similar arguments in our time 
help to reconcile the Scottish crofter to their supercession by 
the red deer. The si^ectacle of a great country laid desolate 
in order to provide swrt for the alien from farther Asia, the 
dismantled homes, the ruined farmsteads, the fields once 
bright with com now overgrown with all manner of 
noisome weeds, acted as a perpetual irritant to the 
smouldering discontent of the i)eople. 

The Rev. Ebenezer Brown, who had been Mr. Wilkes* 
right hand man at Rigby when he stood for Blankshire^ 
had accepted a call to Chesterfield three years ago, and was 
a witness of the desolation which Glogoul and Faulmann 
had worked in the land. It got upon his nerves, and he 
preached sermons which read like latter day variants upon 
the invectives of the Hebrew seers. The scenes of horror, 
which had followed the dispersion of the labour camps by; 
cholera tdmost drove him mad. He would wander at nightx 
along the hilltops past the ruins of Six Elms, where the , 
workmen in the daytime were busy re-building the seven- ' 
teenth century palace, and pour out his soul in passionate 
entreaties to the Lord to smite with a fierce destruction the 
enemies of the people. 

Some time before the day on which Ping Yang Yaloo was 
expected to arrive at Manchester in his steam yacht, an 
inmiiense multitude gathered at the station of Rowsley to 
watch for the arrival of the mysterious millionaire. For 
several weeks previous to this his retinue had been arriving 
in driblets. A whole flotilla of steamers had been required 
to transport the belongings of the millionaire. The 
peculiarity of the costumes, the curious weapons, and the 
extraordinary nature of the merchandise offered unceasing 
topics for the conversation of the multitude. The first 
instalment of the harem had arrived some days before in 
closely curtained carriages. So great was the press of 
people to see the Chinese ladies that it was necessary to 
bring down a regiment of cavalry from Sheffield. Under the 
protection of their sabres the disembarkation of the Chinese 
menagerie continued. No such menagerie had ever before 
amazed Uie rustics of Derbyshire. The huge elephants, which 
made their way with ponderous tread to their appointed 
place, excited eager curiosity ; but the interest was centred 



The Splendid Paupers. 



upon the great iron cage^i in which tigers and ligTMBM 

conveyiid to their quariers iu the vwiuuii preserven. 

tiaiB tu time there was a shout uf anger or of liercn di 

content fronj the c^>»'>l. bul it wjl« only tu'imenlarv 

aerveJ but to puDCti 

greeted each frexh 

■rrivitl. 

On tha day on 
kvliiuL Ping Yang 
f vaa oxi«ct«d to 
B«rrire, Glogoul and 
I faultnunn 



have bRlanced the aocotmt by giving jimjams a 
iu UiiglAiid.~ 

" Hut," said fuulinann, " it iias unt; begun ~ 



|4ll>W 



Man 



Ibim. On their 
t way thither Faul- 
1 tiiaun seemed t« he 
1 Buitten with an 

■ tUiaccustomed At 

■ ' Glo- 
I coul endeavoured 
I in vain tu cheer 
iLim. 

"Don't be a 
tfoul, Faulmann," 
I Mid he. "What 
Iu the tnatter witli 



t whose homefl wo 
■ luire demoliehed, 
I' tud whom we have 
- troyedwith 






you 




' said Ologoul 
rtily, " if you 
give way to feel- 
like these, 
have only 
I what others 
: done before 
3 who have died 
the odour of 
and 
^Vrboae pnuaee nre 
«uug in all the 
churches." 

Faulmnnn went 
«n without heeding 
him. " The dyna- 
mite was bad, the cholera was worse, but, after all the 
OiBorisa which that accuraed jiinjwuB has wrought, the rest 



habit IB iuat 
id a start of half a 
century, and jini- 
junis U not going 
i>i make that uy . 
ir, a hurry. You 
^lioiUd," Haid Glo- 
goul, with a ainiB- 
i(-r smile, "reganl 
iiiurnelf, likeLailv 



irothy. 



the 



Faulmann 
not reply, 
looked out front 
I h e carriage 
window over Uie 
l>road laadtcarn 
through which tLe 
irain was tawing. 

iind there, how- 
ever, that be got a 
Klimpae of the 
-oeoery, for the 
□e was bordered 
1 either side bv 
ho high w 
hi<;h had beeu 
liili to jirevei 
lU escape uf tlie 

^" You may talk 
. you like. G)o- 
>iil," he Gald, 
but when I look 



^uiukiug or 
jlitiuner c^aungle 
i|^ht from a i>e 
■iul's cottajte ; 
light, I coQfeu I 

'■ The' mora fwi: 
.■'iu,"ba.idGliigoulj, 



s Uun, 



■■ Likif 
"PI"-' 



aid 



of 



iniUs ii 



"Well," mid Glognul, "let it be 'crimes,' if you will 

ilftve it so. It is not our country, is it? And as fur 

t ihnjams, what liav« we done more than the English 

^llAve done lo the CUiueseV Jimjatoa is no wortie than 

Ofiuto, any w.iy; and afier ;i^ving ojnuni the free mu 

H China for Qfiy years, yoa cannot poseibly say that we 



ul a 
savagely. 

"Yes, like me," aitid Olngoul ciilnily. "I am the dnly 
(rue humamlorian, for my human itatianism is btwed t' 
edence and intelligently directed lo its Ic^cal end. Tl 
only service which you can render lo this humanity of wblcli 
you talk so much is to put an end to it. After all ihefi 
whom we have put out of pain in the last tivelvo monthi 
toy consciencB, if you like to call it such, only rvproves tin 
of one thing, and that is we have killeil tm firw. How cai 
you look out upon Ihis j-esthole of a world and Dul fvel thai 



The Yellow Man in Possession. 



93 



the TOM vrho could ilevi^ a sleeping draught which the 
whole human race could lake aod never rise agun, would be 
the Buprertie benefactor of the univenie ? We cannot attain 
to that yet, but we are approximating." 

Fauimann did not reply ; and the two were silent until 
thay bad reached their destinalion. Conspicuous on the 
gangway they saw Lady Dorothy Patterson, arrayed in a 
wUte satin costume more suitable to a girl of fifteen than to 
a matron of fifty. She stood holding a bouquet uf hothoune 
flowers which she bad herself selected — for she prided herself 
upon her taste— in order to present to His Excellency the 
moment his feet to'irlted British soil. There was alxo tbe 
H«yor of Maoehes' r with a special address of welcome, 
u>d Mr. Aleem j Bnuiro-d 
dandog attenaaDT i on Lady 
Dorothy. ■"% 

Within halfanhmr after their ' ^* 
arriral the Mandarin's yacht drew 
up at the wharf, which was gaily 
decormt«d to receive him. Gannons 
fired salvoes of welc<Hiie, and 
immense crowds on either side of 
tbe canal a!) tbe way from 
Liverpnol had almost deafened 
Kng Yang Taloo with one in- 
ceMant roar of cheering. His 
impaBsive countenance, however, 
._ showed no ngn either of delight 
or of disgust or of weariness aa 
he stepped upon the soft velvety 
carpet which was laid upon the 
gangway. 

Ue had no sooner planted both 
his feet upon the wharf tban 
I*dy Dorothy pressetl up to him 
with a smile which was meant 
to be irresistibly winning, dropped 
t curtsey, and gracefully offered 
him ber bouquet. The million- 
■ira looked at her with an im- 
perturbable, stony look in his 
black eyes. He neither put out 
hia hand nor manifested the 
alightest consciousness of her 
existence. Lady Dorothy blushed, 
and a horrible moment inter- 
vened. Before she had regained 
her self-possession. Ping Yang 
Yaloo bad passed her, dimlaining 
to take her flowers, and was 
mbreast of the Mayor of Man- 
chester. That functionary, with 
fais gold chain and ofHcial air, 
«iicce«ded in attracting fur a moment the attention of His 
£xcellaDcy. No sooner, however, had Ping Yang Yaloo 
heard the first words of the address than he motioned to 
Ilia secretary and moved on. No one attempted to detain 
liiiii until he reached the saloon carriage, which be entered, 
leairing his secretary to wiestle with the intricacies of 
municipal etiquette. Ping Yang Yaloo was followed by the 
Site of his bodyguard, men armed to the teeth. These toi>k 
up their quartern in the carriages in front and beliind the 
car in which Ping Yang Yalno was ensconced. The rest of 
tbe party lileil into the various carriages, and the train started 
for Chatflworih. 

It was a bright and beautiful day. The sun waa shining 
as if to belie the Mandarin's impressions of an English 
climate. The ejciteraent of the crowd was immense when 
the signals announced the approach of the Mandarin's train. 



It required all the tact and resolution of the suIUiers to keep 
the crowd within bounds. Amid tbe enthusiastic cheering 
of the people, the train steamed slowly up to the platform if 
Rowsley Station. At the station carriages were waiting t» 
•onvey the Mandarin, his guards, and his retinue to 
Chatsworth. As soon as the rest of his party had started. 
Ping Yang Yaloo took his seat on the luxurious crimson 
cushions of his carriage. His bodyguard, fierce-looking 
Tsjtars from the north of China, with pigtails, mounted and 
dressei) exactly alike, so that no man in the crowd could teiL 
one from another, formed an escort round the Mandarin's- 

. Lady Dorothy, who had come up in the same train a» 
his Excellency, was still carrving 
the slighted bouqueL Catcning 
the eye of Che Mandarin as she 
thought, she threw the floweT» 
into the carriage. 
"" ' They fell on the seat oppoiitfc 

The great man stooped slowly, 
took up the bouquet-holder be- 
tween his linger and thumb, 
fingerly, as if fearing it contained 
jrnainite, and dropped it into 
tlie road at the moment the 
carriage drove off. 

Mortified but undismayed. Lady 

Dorothy determined to retrieve 

her fortunes In the palace at 

Chatsworth, but on inquiring for 

carriage, she waa informed by 




the 1 



r of 



Excellency's orders were pre- 
cise: no while woman was to he 
allowed to enter Chatsworth rates. 
Furious at this slight, I^y 
D<irothy departed, consoling her- 
self OS best she could with the 
devoted attentions of Algernon 
Bradford. 

Just as the Mandarin's carriage 

was about to enter the gates of 

bis park, a pale, slight figure 

broke through the cordon that 

kept the way, and stood with an 

outstretebed hand iu the centre- 

of the road, right in the way of 

the approaching carriage. There 

was a wild cry from the crowd, 

but, above it, he was heard to- 

shout in a voice which was- 

rather a shriek than sn articulate 

sound, " Woe I woe ! " 

The cry was heard distinctly by Ping Yang Yaloo, 

notwithstanding the jingling of the spurs and tbe clatter 

of the sabres of his escort. The postillions, seeing the 

minister standing in tbe middle of tne road, slightly drew 

It was noted by some in the crowd that at that moment 
tbe eyes of all the escort were centred upon the impassive 
features of his Excellency. He did not speak, hut raised 
his hand and made a slight signal, which, whatever it might 
mean, seemed to be perfectly understood. 

In an instant one of the twenty members of the body- 
guard rode forward at a gallop with a drawn sabre in his- 

Every one present held his breath in amazement, not 
knowing what was about to happen. 

In another moment the head of the Bev. Ebenezer Brown 



94 



The Splendid Paupers. 



rolled io the cam&ge-ira.T, n-hile bin bixly, nixiiitlng blood, 
sb^gered for one momeDt and then full. 

That was all that could be wen ; for the next nionient the 
postilUoDi whipped up their horeea, the escort put npur» to 
their iteede, aDd the whole cavalcade, with the carriage in 
the centra, swept over ibe prostrate body of the minister, and 
on through the jiark gatee. 

Neither the jMlicenieti on duty nor any of the peojile 
present were able to identify, then or afierwardii, the 
horHemao whose razor-lilie sabre had given the " foreign 
devila" a taste of Chinese skill in decapitation. From 
that hour no English foot, gave tliat of the Handnrin's 
eecrebuT, was allowed to cross the threshold of Chstsworth 
Park. 

On galloped the horsemen, while the state carriage swung 
And creaked on its springB, down by the riverxide, where the 
rabbits were playing merrily in Ilie autumn sunshine, |>a''t 
the artificial like, ana on until they clattered up to the great 
«n trance. 

The horses' hoofs struck fire from the stones. The car- 
riage was all streaked and splashed with human blood. 

i'ing Yang Yaloo did not deign a look or a word Io his 
obsequious retainers, who opened out to right and left, 
bowing low, as be stepped from his carriage into the entrance 
hull of his future home. 

The great folding-doors were flung wide open, and a wild, 
barbaric tumult of horns was heard from within. 

Slowly, with impassive features, His Excellency mounted 
lite steps leading to the hall. The great fuldiog-doure closed 



Thus the old order changes, giving place to the new ; and 
OD the ruins of our old aristocracy, ruined by the fall in 
jHices and the com|ietition of Asia, there was reared tfaa 
cumer-slune of a new plutocracy, with all the vices of the 
old r^iine, and none of its virtues. 

It is the custom in Christmas stories to wind up the 
affairs of the dramalii puiivua as if the end of the story 
were the judgment day of the world. 1 hings do i : t happen 
BO in real life, and those who wish to know the 'et It of the 
contest which was waged between His Eicelle cy Ping 
Yang Yaloo on the one side, supported by the Toilers" 
Industrial League and Sir Peter and Lady Dorothy Patter- 
pou; and on the other by Sir Artegal and Lady Uuriel. 
sup]x>rted by ah that was best and nobleet in tbe dwiudL-ncr 
remnant of the aristocracy and among the niassas of tba 
{>eopIe, will hare to wait until the destinies have spun a 
little more of the web of human life. For the great battle 
against the New Plutocracy, aided by a corrupt ai>d self- 
seeking Demagogy, is a fight which is not yet finiahed, 
nor, indeed, has it hardly as much as hoguu. The {MOphetic 
vision fails us at present to carry further the story of thia 
hut rally of the ii^pleiidid I'auiiers. 




l' WILLIAH CLOWES A 



I, STAKPOBD STBBET AMP i' 



Advertisements. 



IX 



A SOLEMN WARNING. 

A note of warning was sounded some time ago wlien it became known that tlie Czar was suffering 
from headache, dep essed feeling, acnte pains in various parts of the body, especially small of the back, 
fickle appetite and sleeplessness. These seemingly trifling symptoms were allowed to continue. The 
natural result has come. "The terrible revelation of a perilous malady came upon us all," said his 
Imperial Highness, **like a thunderbolt." Had the«) symptoms been properly treat. d at their inception 
the Imperial Monarch would to-day, undoubtedly, have been enjoying his wonted good health. This 
should be a lesion to all. Watch yourselves carefully — notice your condition — observe your symptoms. 
If you have pains in the back or loims, feelings of languidness and depression, occa<;ional pufBncss under 
the eye-lids, or notice a loss of flesh and strength, remombor it may be a warning of the approach of 
Brigbt*8 Disease. Do not, then, delay an instant. There is danger in delay, and safety in a prompt 
recourse to Warner's "Safe" Cure. 



Read the followini Proofs: — 



Bbadpor'), MAyyiNiHAM, Grosvenor Place, 153, Man- 
ningham I.ane, August 4th, 18D1. — *' T\^o years ago last 
July I broke down in health and serious pymptoms iKjgan 
to develop. The first symptoms noticeable were loss of 
appetite, general weakness, and diarrhoea. I consulted 
and was under the treatment of my private physician 
ft IT three months. Not gaining in a satisfactory manner 
I resorted to consultation A\ith other physicians in this 
and in other towns, also going under treatment at a 
hydropathic institution. In fact, for about 15 months 
I resorted to the best medical advice which could !« 
obtained, during wliich time I was couii)clled to give 
up an established business of 2G years' standing, but, at 
the end of this time, instead of gaining I was losing 
ground. 

" My symptoms were those which usually characterise 
the dreaded Briglit's Disease of the Kidneys; erratic 
motions of the bowels, emaciation, dropsical swelling of 
the ankles, and, in the morning, of the face ; occasional 
passing of blood from the kidneys, large amount of 
albumen, casts, and epithelium; a rash of the skin, 
which protluccd extreme itching and irritation to which 
I applied all kinds of ointments without affording relief. 

" I cofnmenced using Warner's ' S-ife ' Cere, and after 
the use of four or five bottles I could see ai im])rove- 
mcnt. This improvement preceded a permaiient cure. 
All the above mentioned symptoms have disti^'peared ; 
dropsical swelling entirely -gone; I have gained over 
two stone in weight ; the rash has passed away, and, 
further, since the use of the medicine, I have not suff red 
the slightest from sciatic jmins which had annoyed me 
for 21 years. 

'• T!ie doctors and my friends call mo ' a living wonder/ 
and I consider tliat Warner's 'Safe' Cure saved my life." 

February 18th, 1894 

"Since giving the above testimonial, thr e years ago, 
I have enjoyed continued good health, and consider my 
cure permanent"— S. Btieb. 



Dr. Fisher, a German Government physician, Neuen- 
buerg, Wiirttemberg, Germany, says :— " I have pleasure 
in saying that a lady patient who was suffering from 
Briglit's Disease of the Kidneys, and to wliom I 
prescribed and gave Warner's * Safe * Cure, after having 
treated her, in consultation with eminent colleagues, 
with all other known therapeutic remedies, has been 
completely cured through the use of Warner's 'Safe' 
Cure." 

SLino, Ibkland, George Street, June 8th, 1893.—" In 
the spring of 1891 I contracted inflammation of the 
kidneys, and immidntcly consulted one of the best 
resident physician^, who advibcd me to go to bed, and 
assured me that in five weeks he would have me 
all right. Five weeks developad into months without 
the slightest signs of improvement. My father then 
took me to Dublin, where I was examined by a 
Fp^cialist and other doctors, who pronounced my case 
as hopeless. 

'* I retumei to Sligo, growing rapidly worse, wasting 
to a skeleton, except where puffed with dropsical swelling, 
which extended from my ankles and feet to my stomach, 
sides, and back, with a dull, heavy pain in the kidne>s 
and side. By August my death was daily exp cted. At 
this time, a^ a la^t resort, I commenced Warner's * Safe ' 
Cure, and carefully followed the prescribed diet. From 
the commenccmi'Ut I experiencxd relief; my stomach was 
capable, for the first time for months, of retaining food; 
the various symptoms which characterise this dreadful 
disease, one by one, gradually subside J, and now, 
ahhough two years j-ince my case was pronounced hope- 
less by seven doctors, my cure is complete, and I enjoy 
fiist-rhiss health. 

**Tliis wondt^rful result is solely attributable to 
Warner's ' S ife ' C ire and the incessant care and prayers 
of many friends." 

Tho3. F. McNurr. 



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ADV£RtlSfiM£MTS. XV 



Bi^omo-PHosPH, 

OR BRAIN FOOD. 

THE TRIUMPHANT CONQUEROR of EVERT FORM OF MENTAL k PHYSICAL WEAKNESS. 



^^^^0^0^^^0^0^^^^^0^0^0^0^^^0^^^0^^^^m0*^^0^^^^^0^^^^90^^*^^^*^*^^^**^^^^ 



THE DISCOVEBT OF ONE OF THE ABLEST PHTSICIANS OF THE 

NINETEENTH CENTUBT. 



BROMO-PHOSPH 

HAS, during a long and extensive practice, been subjected to the most severe tests before being presented 
to the public in its present form. Its Almost MlraculOUS Effects on the human System have 
quickly won for it a place in the rank of medicines devoted to the restoration of energy and vital 
force, and the time cannot -be far distant when at home and abroad, by land and sea, it will become the 
recognised and standard remedy of every form of weakness. Never, perhaps, in the history of medicine 
has there been a more potent demand for a safe and effective restoration than now. Such is the strain 
and pressure of life that, in all our cities and great centres of population, there are Thousands Of P60pl0 
who are always tired — ^tired at night and tired in the morning — they have lost all pleasure in their work and 
their whole life has become a burden. What they need is a bottle of 

BROMO-PHOSPH OR BRAIN FOOD. 

It is a perfectly Natural Restorative. It calma and quiets the tired brain while 

increasing its force and power, 

IT REMOVES ALL NERVOUS TV7ITCHINGS & SENSATIONS, EFFECTUALLY CURES INDIGESTION & IMPAIRED 
APPETITE, ACIDITY, FUTULENCE, HEARTBURN, HEADACHE, GIDDINESS, & DIMNESS OF SIGHT. 



^/x/%^«/^r^/x/x/x/^rx/x/«/^/%/%/^< 



BROMO-PHOSPH OR BRAIN FOOD. 

Stold by all Chemists— prices Is. l^d., 2s. 8d., and 4s. 6d. per bottle. 

SENT POST FBSB ON BEOEIPT OF POSTAL OBDEB OB STAMPS. 

On reoeipi ^ «m damp^ wUh JvU addreu of iender, the proprielon vfiU fonoard^ poitfree, their large lUudrcML Caialogmt, 

eontainingfmU partioulan of IhU importaiU discovery, 

THE GIFTED AUTHOBESS, Joror Stbakoi WnmB, writiDgr in her latest brilliant success, •« Winter's Weekly," snys-- 
* I adyise yoa vpry strongly to try Bromo-Phosph, the new Brain Food, iihioh you can get at any chemist's at One Bhiillng a Bottle 
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with the rapidity which is nanally attributed to the * landlady's cat' Eyerybody in my house tried it and felt better for IL" 



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